


"Follow Me Back With The Sun In Your Eyes..."

by MedieavalBeabe



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston/Keira Knightly - Fandom
Genre: AU, Abusive Mother, Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Arson, Counsellor Tom, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Keane Music, Misfits Inspired, Relationship(s), Teenage Pregnancy References, Young Offender Keira, absent father, maybe not, maybe smut, no superpowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:52:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6716956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedieavalBeabe/pseuds/MedieavalBeabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keira is a seventeen year old serving community service, but she would rather be anywhere than at home.</p><p>Tom is her twenty six year old counsellor, very professional, but there's something about his newest counselee that makes him want to be more. </p><p>Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know. Sometimes there are things you can't always talk about. And sometimes other things just sort of...happen...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "You Haven't Told Me Anything"

**Author's Note:**

> (I can’t believe that no one’s thought of shipping these two together yet. Ok, so they’ve never done a film together but they have acted with the same people before – both acted with Tom Hollander, Benedict Cumberbatch, Natalie Portman, Judi Dench and Stellan Skaarsgard in different films/shows – and a lot of people on YT think they should do a movie because of the way they look together in my good friend LoveandHeartbreak’s videos, so I came up with this. I’m using the TV show Misfits as research, so if I get anything wrong, blame that.) 
> 
> (Each chapter is named for a Keane song)

_“You’re a disgrace! You should never have been born!”_

_“Sharman! You’ve been drinking again! Here, give me that-!”_

_“Leave me alone! And you – get out! You’re nothing but a useless little-!”_

_“Keira, just go on, go to your community service, go on.”_

_“Community service? Stupid little brat! They should have locked her up!”_

Keira brought her knees up to her chin. She hated these stupid little plastic chairs they had to sit on in this place, like the ones they used to use back in primary school, the way they scraped loudly against the cold tiled floor like nails down a slate, and the way your bum went numb on them after about half an hour. She wrapped her arms around her legs and leaned her cheek on her knee. It was strange how the one place she had finally started to feel safe for the first time in her life was here in the Community Centre, the place where she now had to do eight weeks of community service.

 

Was that why she had done it in the first place, subconsciously, because she wanted to be somewhere other than home?

 

Maybe.

 

So far, it hadn’t been as awful as she had imagined. Monday, she and her team, who were alright but never went out of their way to be overly friendly, just kept their heads down and got on with it, had scraped ABC gum off the undersides of park benches. Tuesday, they had scrubbed graffiti off the side of a building. Wednesday, they had helped sort through some bags of clothes people had donated to go to homeless shelters and kids in places like Africa, which had been sort of fun when they had seen half the weird things that people desperately wanted to get rid of, and divided them into different piles. And now, Thursday, she had a meeting with a counsellor who had been assigned to her, so that they could discuss her “crime.”

 

Keira shuddered. She wasn’t looking forwards to this, having to talk to some boring middle-aged woman, she imagined, who would either be extremely condescending and wouldn’t really listen to or understand her feelings - “No, of course you didn’t mean to do it, dear, everyone knows that, no need to get so angry with me, I’m trying to help you, I’m your friend” – or else extremely strict like her old Maths teacher – “Why don’t you get it into your thick head, you stupid girl? What you did was wrong, and now look where it’s got you! Well, what have you got to say for yourself?”

 

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, although when she exhaled, it came out ragged, as if she was freezing cold.

 

Abruptly, the door opened and she jumped, startled right out of her thoughts.

 

“Sorry.”

 

She blinked at the tall man who had just walked in, dressed neatly in shirt and black trousers, sleeves rolled up and a file and notebook tucked under one arm. His hair was, she wasn’t sure, was it auburn or light brown, or a mix of both and his eyes were a soft blue. He smiled at her.

 

“Didn’t mean to make you jump. Please tell me I’m in the right room, this place is huge.”

 

Keira remembered the mask she wore in this place and quickly slipped behind it again. “That depends on who you’re looking for.”

 

The man laughed, gently, and opened the file. “A girl named Keira, apparently, Keira Knightly.”

 

“That’s me.” Inwardly, she wanted to squeal like some kind of fangirl. This man was her counsellor? This drop dead gorgeous tall man with kind eyes and a pleasant laugh would be talking to her every Thursday until her community service was over? Perhaps she ought to break the law more often.

 

“Lovely name,” the man commented, closing the door.

 

“My _seanmhair_ came up with it,” Keira shrugged. “That’s my Gran,” she added, just in case he didn’t know anything about the Gaelic language. “She’s Scottish, so’s my Mum.”

 

Her counsellor smiled. “Well, I’m afraid my name’s pretty ordinary compared to yours. It’s Tom.”

 

“Do I call you that?”

 

“If you like.”

 

He sat down opposite her. Keira envied the fact that he got the comfortable chair, but then, she reflected, this was community service, it was meant to be a punishment, not a holiday.

 

“Do your parents call you Thomas?” she asked.

 

Tom smiled. “Only when they’re angry with me.”

 

“Oh.” Keira slumped a little in her seat. She really didn’t want to have to talk about her own home life. The further away from it she was in her own mind, the better.

 

Tom seemed to take a while to open his notebook to the correct page and fill in everything from her file that was required. Was he naturally slow, she wondered, or just doing it to give her time to gather her thoughts? Eventually, though, he looked up at her.

 

“It’s alright, you don’t have to look so suspicious, I’m not going to bite,” he smiled.

 

Keira immediately felt the colour rushing to her cheeks as she tried to fix her expression into something friendlier. “Sorry.”

 

Tom shrugged it off, easily, reading her file. “Right, so you started a fire in a bar, Class A, by filling a bin in the ladies with paper, setting it alight and then tipping it over.” The blue eyes met hers and she looked away, feeling like he was judging her. She knew what she had done, why did everyone have to keep bringing it back up again? “Do you want to tell me why?”

 

He said it gently, and slowly, almost as if he felt awkward even asking, and for a second she seriously considered answering. But the reason always made her want to cry. She felt her throat close up and she shook her head, trying hard not to burst into tears.

 

“Alright,” Tom murmured, “that’s alright. Not everyone feels comfortable doing that on their first day.”

 

“But it’s your job to ask, right?” Keira whispered.

 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Tom replied, lightly, sounding as if he was trying not to laugh. Glancing at him, Keira managed a small smile. Was he like this with everyone, or just her? She hoped it was just her. “But we don’t have to talk about that.”

 

She frowned. “I thought we did.”

 

“Keira, being a counsellor just means I’m someone for you to talk to, it doesn’t have to be about your reasons for being here,” Tom answered, softly. “We can talk about anything, as long as we fill up the hour, as long as I can actually _get_ you talking.”

 

That time, Keira managed a giggle and before she could stop herself he had already asked the question she desperately wanted to know the answer to.

 

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

 

Tom looked surprised but in no way offended by the question. “No, not at the minute.”

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

“Are you trying to find out if I’m straight?”

 

Keira blushed again. “Well, you can’t always tell by looking.”

 

Tom chuckled, softly. “Yes, I’m straight. What about you? Do you have someone special in your life?”

 

“Not yet,” Keira admitted. Then, she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “And probably not ever after this.”

 

Tom gave her a sympathetic look. “Keira, lots of young people go through this and end up making a better life for themselves, people who’ve committed much worse crimes than you, I’m sure. There’s no reason you won’t meet someone.”

 

She wanted to say that with a mother like hers, she would be lucky if she even lived long enough to finish community service here and attempt to carve some kind of new life for herself in the future. But she didn’t. It was too painful. So, she just nodded, but she must have looked down even so, because Tom subtly changed tack.

 

“Which brings us to the subject of what you might end up doing after all this,” he said, flipping to clean sheet in his notebook. “What do you think you’d like to do?”

 

_Hide. Run for my life. Play out a fantasy in my head where none of what I really live with exists and it’s just me and Seanmhair, no one else._

Keira wriggled her shoulders. “I don’t know, really. I don’t do much when I’m not in school.” It sounded sad, she knew, strange even, but it was the truth, much of her home life revolved around tiptoeing about the house, trying not to disturb her mother or else walking alone in the park, waiting for her grandmother to calm her down after one of her drinking sessions.

 

She spent more time in the park than at home.

 

“What are you good at?” Tom persisted, gently.

 

She thought about it. “Art. I like painting. Actually, I wish we could do some here, even painting over the graffiti would be nice. I find it soothing.”

 

Tom smiled at her, encouragingly. “Perhaps we could look at you going to art college, then. Or taking it up as an A-Level to see how things pan out.”

 

Keira nodded, although she knew that the notion of ever doing something like that was impossible. Seanmhair might let her, but her mother never would, she would find some way to ruin it, she knew.

 

“Did you take it as GCSE?” Tom asked.

 

Keira nodded. “Yes, I got an A.”

 

“For what?”

 

“I painted my _seanmhair’s_ favourite painting for her. She’s still got it in her room.”

 

“What’s her favourite painting?”

 

“Girl with a Pearl Earring by Vermeer. I copied a photograph.”

 

“That’s interesting,” Tom smiled, writing it down in the notebook. “I have heard that some artists make their living painting portraits from photographs. Do you think that’s something you might like to do?”

 

“Maybe. I’ve got a camera. It’s not great but it works.”

 

“Well, that’s all that really matters,” Tom replied. “Do you paint when you’re not in school?”

 

“I can’t, really.” Keira looked away from him. “We live miles from any art shops.”

 

And, she knew, her mother would create. She had never seen the point of her daughter liking art, let alone seeing it as a career.

 

“Why would anyone pay you to make a mess?” she had once scoffed at reading an article in the papers about some modern painting in the Tate Gallery. “And who wants something like that in their house? Honestly, people have some stupid ideas!”

 

“Well, perhaps you should see if there are any clubs you can join,” Tom suggested, directing his pen at the door. “I’m sure they’ll be something on the notice boards in this place.”

 

Keira nodded. “I’ll have a look,” she said, not really meaning to. How could she? If her mother wouldn’t let her waste money on art supplies at home, there was no way she would let her waste money to borrow someone else’s either. “Do you like art?” she added, hoping to divert the conversation away from herself.

 

Tom smiled, eyes on his notes. “Well, I’m not exactly what you’d call an art buff, but I do enjoy some.”

 

“Like what?” Keira persisted.

 

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

 

There was a mischievous look in his eyes that made her giggle. Surely it wasn’t supposed to be like this? It felt more like she was talking to someone from school, not a counsellor who had to be...what? At least ten years her senior.

 

“I like some of Vermeer’s stuff, and Monet. We had to do some of that in primary school; it was easy with pastels, doing all the dots for flowers and that. And I think I like Botticelli, because his stuff’s always so bright, I mean the colours, not the themes and I like the way he paints character from mythology. And I quite like sculptures too, like Rodin and Michelangelo.”

 

Feeling like she was babbling, she blushed and looked at her feet. Tom put her at ease, however, describing some of his favourite paintings, two by artists she had never heard of, Pollaiuolo and Lowry, but resolved to look up the second she got home. She listened, liking the tone of his voice when he spoke about his favourite aspects or angles, or the way the artists captured the light or worked with colours. It was a lot easier than hearing her Art teachers talk about it, their tones always flat and lacking in passion. She found herself leaning further forwards in her chair just to show her interest.

 

Eventually, however, all too soon for her liking, he finished and glanced at the clock. “Think we’d better stop there for now. You need to get back to your community service and I’ve got an appointment I really can’t be late for.”

 

 _“That_ was only an hour?” Keira felt her shoulders slump again.

 

“Sorry,” Tom smiled, searching through his papers. “We’ll have to carry on next week.”

 

Keira sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I wish it was next week already.”

 

Tom laughed, softly, and pulled a sheet of paper which he held out to her. “Now, you’re going to hate me for this but...”

 

“You’re not giving me homework, are you?” Keira sighed.

 

“Just a little exercise for next week,” Tom insisted, proffering the paper. “It’s simple, really, you can use what we talked about earlier if you like. I just want you to come up with five possible career goals and then a list of possible steps you could make to achieve them. Straightforward enough.”

 

“Why five?” Keira sighed. “Why not two? Or even just one?”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t make the rules, Keira, I just work here,” Tom smiled, apologetically, gathering up the rest of his papers. “But,” he added, seeing her face fall, “if you can’t think of five, just come up with as many as you can. I won’t make you stand in the corner or anything.”

 

He winked at her and she giggled. “I’ll try.”

 

“Good. I think you’ve made a real breakthrough today.”

 

“I bet you say that at the end of all your sessions.”

 

“Not as many as I’d like,” Tom admitted, opening the door and gesturing for her to precede him. “So, for you it’s back to..?”

 

Keira blushed. “Oh, just...”

 

She shrugged.

 

“What?” Tom pressed with a gentle tone.

 

“Scraping up dog...mess,” Keira finished, shuffling her feet.

 

He gave her another sympathetic look. “In that case, I don’t blame you for wanting to stay here longer. But I admire you for it.”

 

Looking into his eyes, Keira knew he was telling her the truth, and she wanted to say something nice, thank him for listening to her, but somehow the words stuck in her throat, so she nodded and looked quickly away, muttering “I think I left my stuff by the back door.”

 

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” Tom replied, patting her shoulder. “Try and stay out of trouble until then.”

 

“I will,” Keira managed to say as he left. The second he was out of sight, she leaned against the wall and sighed. Why was he the first person she had met who hadn’t judged her for the arson, or for all the filthy jobs she was now doing in order to keep out of prison? What did he see that others didn’t? Or was he simply like that with everyone he counselled, to maintain a level of professionalism and gain their trust, get them to open up of their own free will?

 

She folded the paper he had given her, tucked it into the pocket of her hideous orange jumpsuit and walked out to get her shovel and bag. Perhaps from now on things would go her way, just for a change, perhaps things would start looking up...

 

“Watch yourself!”

 

Sploch!

 

The warning from her teammates came too late as she looked down to see that she had just trodden in a fresh pile of dog mess.

 

“Urgh!” Keira grimaced and began to rub her foot against a stray patch of weeds.

 

Perhaps not.


	2. "Nothing In My Way"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keira is a seventeen year old serving community service, but she would rather be anywhere than at home.
> 
> Tom is her twenty six year old counsellor, very professional, but there's something about his newest counselee that makes him want to be more. 
> 
> Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know. Sometimes there are things you can't always talk about. And sometimes other things just sort of...happen...

“See you tomorrow,” shrugged Hayley, slinging her satchel over her shoulder as she left.

 

“Bye,” Keira smiled, shyly. Since meeting Tom, she had felt somewhat on a high, even after stepping in dog mess earlier. She had managed to get it all off, though, so that had to be a good sign, surely? But now that the day was over and she had to go back to her house again, it felt like someone had now popped that balloon and it was deflating.

 

She plugged in her IPod and flicked to Keane’s second album. Their music was wonderful for losing herself in, making her forget all the horrors of her normal life. She closed her eyes for a second, listening to Atlantic, wondering what it would feel like to drown, forget about everything, leave everything painful behind and forget about it all, and then promptly opened them again as she remembered that there was a door right in front of her that she would rather not walked into.

 

Her thoughts drifted as she left the Community Centre, to her new counsellor. What was he up to right now? What did he have planned for the evening? Was he thinking about her? In a professional way, of course, was he trying to think up a subject for their next conversation, or looking through his notes even now to try and figure out her reasons for starting the fire?

 

She hoped so. It was nice that someone out there other than her _seanmhair_ might be thinking about her in a kind way, and not as some kind of nuisance.

 

The house was quiet when she got in, but she decided against calling out to see if anyone was home. Her mother would have a fit. So, she closed the door behind her as quietly as possible and crept upstairs, only to bump into _Seanmhair_ on the way down. The woman rolled her eyes at her granddaughter.

 

“Sick twice, but she’s finally off. Come into the kitchen. How was it today?”

 

Keira shrugged as she slid into the nearest chair. “I trod in dog mess, but Hayley and Naomie helped me clean it off.”

 

“Oh, dear,” Janet smiled, sympathetically.

 

“I think I prefer scrubbing graffiti,” Keira admitted, thoughtfully.

 

“How did you meeting go with your new counsellor?” Janet asked, throwing away a few empty larger bottles into the recycling bin with a look of disgust. Keira tried hard not to look at them. The smell always made her shudder. “Was she nice?”

 

“It was a he, actually,” Keira admitted.

 

“Oh?” Janet offered a teasing smile. “And was he good looking?”

 

Keira blushed. _“Seanmhair!”_

 

“What? Oh, come on, Keira, you never had a chance to get a crush on any of your school teachers, they were all about my age or older. You’re young. It’s completely natural for you to want a boy just because he’s good looking.”

 

“Well, he is, kind of,” Keira admitted, “and he’s very nice too, not at all judgy like I was expecting.”

 

Janet gave her a pitying look. “Sweetie...”

 

“We talked about art,” Keira interrupted, quickly. “He likes some of the same stuff I do. Have you ever heard of Lowry?”

 

“Ah, your _Seanair_ loved Lowry, he had a whole scrapbook full of his prints when he was younger. I think it’s in the attic somewhere, I can dig it out for you if you’d like.”

 

Keira nodded, glad that they were talking about something other than her failed attempt at arson. “What about Polliauolo?”

 

 _Seanmhair_ frowned. “Isn’t that a disease?”

 

Keira giggled. “No, that’s polio.”

 

Janet chuckled. “Bless me, sweetheart, I’m no art critic. Your _seanair_ was more a fan than me.”

 

Keira watched her bustle about the kitchen making dinner as quietly as possible. She had never really known her grandfather, he had died when she was only a few years old, and then her dad had left soon after that. She had only known a household with two women, one kindly, one aggressive, so polar opposite to one another it was hard to believe that they were related. Awkwardly playing with a loose thread on her cuff, she said “He set me homework, can you believe it?”

 

“Really? What?”

 

“Just...I’ve got to come up with a list of career choices I might like to try.”

 

“Oh, well, that should be easy enough,” Janet shrugged, busily stirring the pasta over.

 

Keira hesitated. “He...seems to think I could go to art college.” Janet stopped stirring. “I mean, me,” Keira laughed, although it was a pained sound, “in art college. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous..?”

 

The words caught in her throat, choked up and whispered.

 

“Oh, Keira,” Janet murmured, straining the pasta. “I know you-”

 

“No, it’s ok,” Keira whispered. “I know it’s a stupid thing to want.”

 

Janet sighed and went over to put an arm around her shoulders. “If it were down to me, you know I’d let you, in a heartbeat.”

 

Keira sighed and shifted off her chair. “I don’t want to go to art college, too much hard work. It’s easier to just stay here and find a job somewhere. Maybe in a shop, maybe Gary will give me some shifts, he’s usually nice to me.”

 

Janet could see right through her granddaughter’s lie but she didn’t press the matter. “Why don’t you have a shower while I do this? You probably got very hot and sweaty out there, cleaning up dog mess.”

 

Keira nodded and practically ran out of the room. She hadn’t meant to sound so bitter. In her heart, Tom had awakened a dream that she badly wanted to have come true but she knew it never would. How could it? The longing for it ached so badly but her mother would never give her the money to go to a normal college, let alone art college, and she would never allow _Seanmhair_ to give her money either. And even if she made the money herself somehow, saved up through working tedious hours in some shop or bar, her mother would always find some way to ruin it for her.

 

She knew that.

 

It was something of a relief to strip off all her clothes and have a shower, even if it was only a lukewarm, quick one. It made her feel better, like shedding the events of the day and washing them all down the drain. She sighed as she accidently bumped her ankle tag against the side of the bath. The sooner she would be allowed to take that off, the better. But the only way, of course, she could do that, was to finish her community service.

 

“I’m never committing a crime again,” she muttered to herself. “Even if it does get me away from this place for a while.”

 

How angry her mother had been when she had been arrested, and she hadn’t even been drinking that night, it had been a completely sober rant at her daughter afterwards, a slap here, a kick there until _Seanmhair_ could restrain her and get her to calm down. Keira felt the back of her neck, feeling where the bruising was slowly starting to go down now. Of course in the face of policemen and judges, her mother came across as a completely normal woman, cleanly kept, never a whiff of alcohol on her and no one who didn’t know her ever believed that beneath that kind, emotional, caring facade stood a woman who didn’t really give a stuff about her own daughter, except as a means for taking out her and frustration on.

 

Occasionally, though, there would be the odd lapse where she would drift about the house like a ghost and then attempt to communicate with her daughter in some way. That would last about five minutes, at most, and then she would suddenly snap at her to stop irritating her and go away.

 

This had happened yesterday, after she had finished at the Community Centre and come in to find her mother sitting on the sofa, a glass of what looked like gin and tonic in one hand, staring at the television even though it wasn’t even switched on. She remembered pausing with one foot on the bottom stair, wondering whether to go up or ask if her mother was alright. Before she could make up her mind, however, her mother had turned to face her, eerily quietly.

 

“Had a good day?”

 

A flat question that made her feel uneasy.

 

“I-I-It was alright,” Keira stammered, uncertainly.

 

“What did you do?” Sharman asked.

 

“We sorted through clothes donated for charity, put them into piles,” Keira replied. “You know, separating T-shirts from trousers and stuff. We got to try things on. It was sort of fun.”

 

Her mother nodded, slowly, and then took a sip from her glass.

 

“Mum?” Keira ventured, after a long, long sip. “M-Mum?”

 

Sharman scowled at her. “What are you staring at? Go away.”

 

“But you just asked me-”

 

“Get out!”

 

Keira had made a run for it up the stairs and hadn’t seen her mother again all night after that.

 

Sighing, she stepped out of the shower and began to dry herself off. Why did her mother hate her so much? Had she meant what she had said this morning, that she should never have been born, or was that just the drink talking?

 

It was always hard to tell.

 

Keira crept silent as a shadow across the landing and into the safety of her room. Seanmhair had said that her mum was asleep, but how heavily was debatable. Knowing her the way she did, Keira knew that she was liable to wake up at any given second, so the quieter she was the better. In the small cupboard-like room that housed just a bed, a wardrobe, a desk and a chair, no other furnishings, Keira breathed out and reached beneath the pillow for her pyjamas. For some reason, her thoughts landed on Tom again, what was he up to right now? Same as her, taking a quick shower, changing, having dinner alone, or with family, or maybe even a woman?

 

For some reason, the thought made her insides clench and squirm. It just sounded weird, after their little personal conversation, well it had felt personal to her, after all she had talked properly for the first time to someone who wasn’t related to her, to think of him having someone else to talk to like that, someone he would even, well, get cosy with.

 

She shuddered. _Put away that thought. In your mind, he can be anything; he is single and likes talking to you. That’s better._

 

Yanking on her cosy old dressing gown, she climbed onto her bed and lay back, thoughtfully. Did he really think that she could go to art college? Didn’t all colleges and universities look at your permanent records before deciding to take you on? She sighed and shook her head. Impossible, whichever way she looked at it, impossible.

 

She always felt like she was moving through life that Keane song, Nothing In my Way, always pretending that there was nothing wrong with her even though people could see that there was, and like she was constantly hitting walls that she couldn’t break through.

 

Did Tom ever feel like that?

 

Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him.

 

Dully, she reached for her bag to pull out the sheet of paper he have given her for her “homework.” Might as well get it over and done with now, she supposed. Only when she reached her bag, she suddenly remembered that the paper was still inside the pocket of her orange jumpsuit, hanging in her locker, back at the Community Centre.

 

She sighed and flopped back onto the bed. Damn! Oh, well, she could do it tomorrow instead, providing she remembered to take the paper out of her locker, of course.

 

Where was Tom right now?

 

What was he thinking about?

 

Was he thinking about her?

 

Unconsciously, she slid a hand down the front of her pyjama top, slipping beneath the waistband of her bottoms and closed her eyes, seeing a soft, kind blue behind her eyelids and concentrating on nothing but his voice for the next ten minutes...

 

XXX

 

Tom blinked in the sunshine as he stepped from the dental surgery, wishing desperately for a toothbrush and some mouthwash, or anything that could take away the taste of having rubber-clad fingers poking and prodding about inside his mouth. What with all the new technology and inventions springing up in the world every ten seconds, it seemed, you would have thought someone might have come up with a way of making those things taste nicer. Still, it had only been a check-up and he had a clean bill of health, so that was something.

 

He reached his car, catching sight of the file and notebook on the passenger seat beside him. Thoughtfully, he flicked open the file again and began to re-read the information he already knew.

 

_Keira Knightly_

_Age: 17 years_

_Born: March 26 th, Teddington, London_

_Crime: Attempted Arson, The Wharf, Riverside_

 

Below ran a more detailed outline of the arson attempt, which Tom didn’t bother reading. He closed the file with a sigh. What was he looking for? Some hidden clue or sign as to why she had done it? Something she didn’t want to confess, even to him?

 

Because Tom had a gut feeling that for a girl like Keira, this sort of behaviour was completely out of character. It just didn’t seem to fit. In his experience, most young offenders acted up like this because they thought they were being bold and clever, or else because of the influence of drink or drugs. According to her medical record, however, she was clean of both at the time of the attempt, and from what he had seen of her so far, she didn’t seem like the kind of girl who would set fire to a place, or at least try to, just for a laugh.

 

What was it that she didn’t want anyone else to know?

 

What had she really been feeling when she tried to set that place on fire?

 

He shook his head with a smile. They had seven more sessions together, and he was good at his job. One way or another, he could get to the root of the matter.

 

Tom was about to drive away when his mobile rang. He sighed. Oh, well, at least he hadn’t been driving at the time. His initial irritation faded, however, when he saw the name Chris come up on the caller ID, turning to a twinge of excitement.

 

“Hello?”

 

Someone knocked on the window and he jumped. “Jesus!” Someone laughed. With a roll of his eyes, Tom clambered out of the car and ended the call. “What the hell did you do that for?”

 

The Australian, a bit taller than him, but not by much, shrugged his shoulders with a grin. “’Cause I knew it would make you jump.”

 

Tom shook his head with a grin, used to his former roommate and now best friend’s occasionally childish ways, his laidback outlook on life before giving the man a hug, not complaining about the far more muscular Chris “squashing the life out of me” this time. Truth be told, he was glad to see him again.

 

“When’d you get back?” he asked.

 

“Last night,” Chris replied, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Fancy a drink?”

 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Tom teased, locking his car. “Just one, though, we’re not all lucky enough to live on the same street as a bar.”

 

“Yeah, suppose it wouldn’t be good for your reputation as a young offender’s counsellor if you were done for drink-driving,” Chris agreed.

 

“No, it would not,” Tom replied, falling into step beside him. “So, how was Australia?”

 

“Ah, the usual, hot and filled with Aussies,” Chris grinned and they both laughed. “How’s life been here?”

 

“Same as ever,” Tom shrugged. “Oh, I got a new counselee today, though.”

 

“What are they in for?”

 

“Attempted arson, tried to set fire to a bar.”

 

“Blimey!” Chris laughed. “When I don’t like the service in my local, I just complain to the manager!”

 

Tom chuckled. “I don’t think it was that. Actually, I don’t know why she did it. She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who does stuff like that every day. According to her teachers, she was a pretty quiet student, never acted up in class or anything, always did her best to get her homework in on time and all that.”

 

“What ‘bout her home life?” Chris asked.

 

“She won’t say anything about that,” Tom replied, “which leads me to the natural conclusion that it’s not a happy one. I mean, often young criminals have unhappy relationships with their families, so that’s _why_ they act the way they do.”

 

“Cry for help, do you think?” Chris suggested.

 

They were in the bar by this time, the two of them leaning against the recently polished wood trying to decide which new beer or cider sounded good enough to risk consuming a pint of.

 

“Maybe,” Tom replied, thoughtfully. “It’s hard to tell. I’ve got another seven sessions with her to work it all out.”

 

“What if she doesn’t tell you?”

 

Tom gave him a look. “Chris, I’m trained for this kind of thing. One way or another, I’ll get her to tell me.”

 

“And use force if necessary?” Chris joked, causing them both to laugh.

 

“Could lose my job that way if I did,” Tom grinned. He was glad of Chris’s input, though, sometimes a job like his required a second opinion from a neutral party. Thoughtfully, he wondered if his suspicions about Keira’s home life had any ground, or whether she had just felt that it was too boring to mention.

 

At any rate, it was odd that a quiet girl like that, especially one with a passion for art, could suddenly try and set a building on fire for no clear reason.

 

Seven sessions left, he’d figure it out.


	3. "Playing Along"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keira is a seventeen year old serving community service, but she would rather be anywhere than at home.
> 
> Tom is her twenty six year old counsellor, very professional, but there's something about his newest counselee that makes him want to be more. 
> 
> Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know. Sometimes there are things you can't always talk about. And sometimes other things just sort of...happen...

It was Saturday, at last.

 

Keira was always glad of the weekends, because usually _Seanmhair_ would send her out on some errand or other, and she would always make sure to get as far away from the house as possible and linger as long as she could. As she sat up in bed, she listened for, and heard, the sound of her mother being sick in the downstairs bathroom. Shaking her head, she climbed out of bed with a sigh and went for a quick shower before rushing to get dressed.

 

Last night she had had a peculiar dream. She and Tom had been running through different paintings, famous ones, hopping over the lily pads like they were stepping stones in Monet’s _Waterlillies,_ becoming incredibly exhausted in the deserts of Dali’s _The Persistence of Memory,_ slipping down the ship with their hands clasped over their ears inside Munch’s _The Scream_ , and all the time Keira had no idea what they were running away from. She had only been aware of Tom holding onto her hand and shouting “Keep running,” over the noise of whoever, or whatever, had been chasing them.

 

As well as the rapid racing of her own heart at the notion.

 

She didn’t bother dressing in anything too fancy, just her loose light grey joggers, and faded blue zip-up over an old shirt that she only wore on days like this, when she felt like dressing down. By the time she got downstairs, her mother was out of the bathroom and seated at the kitchen table, head resting in her folded arms.

 

Keira hesitated in the doorway.

 

“Sharman, this isn’t a game,” Janet was saying. “You keep saying you’re going to get help for this, but you never do.”

 

“I will,” Sharman groaned, her tone irritable. Keira knew that it was because her mother felt she was being dictated to, nagged at, for no good reason. “Just give me time.”

 

“You’ve had fifteen years to get yourself sorted!” Janet snapped. “You’re just too lazy to do it!”

 

“Don’t you shout at me!” Sharman sprang up from her position to look at her. “You should be shouting at her! I’m not the one who’s done anything illegal here!”

 

She shook a finger at the doorway, although Keira was certain that she hadn’t spotted her lingering in the hall there.

 

“She’s only a teenager, you’re a grown woman! So start acting like it!”

 

Keira jumped as Janet banged a bowl down on the table with vigour. She wasn’t scared, though. _Seanmhair_ was never violent, she shouted, yes, but only at her daughter and had never lifted a finger to her or thrown anything at her before. She knew how this argument was going to turn out, a lot of shouting and then her mother would eventually break into frustrated tears and apologise and swear that she was going to try and get herself sorted, and _Seanmhair_ would accept that, even though they both knew that Sharman never intended to keep that promise.

 

In such situations, though, it was always best to stay out of it. Somehow her very presence always seemed to irritate her mother to the point of irrational anger, and that would make things worse.

 

She was about to retreat into the living room when both women looked up at the exact same time and spotted her still lingering. Her mother scowled at her but Janet smiled, brightly, and reached for her purse.

 

“Keira, dear, do me a favour and run to the shop, we could do with some more milk, and see if you can find some of that nice bread we had the other night. I thought I’d try that casserole again.”

 

Keira nodded, took the ten pound note and left quickly, although not quick enough to mis her mother snorting “See, this is exactly what I mean? Always hanging about, eavesdropping on things that don’t concern her; why can’t she act more normal?”

 

Biting back the urge to cry even as her eyes prickled with tears, Keira quickened her pace until she was hurrying, sprinting through the park as quickly as she could, trying to put as much distance between herself and that woman as she could manage. By the time she reached the gates at the opposite end, she was completely out of breath, but she forced herself to keep going.

 

She could have just gone to the local corner shop for the milk, but she doubted they would have the bread _Seanmhair_ had asked for, after all their bakery counter only really did French sticks and the occasional farmhouse loaf, so she made her way to the larger Tesco Express two streets away from the park. By this time she had managed to pull herself together, although it still hurt, hearing her own mother accusing her of not being “normal,” whatever that meant. It always seemed like nothing she could ever do could please her. Keira had always kept her head down in school, never got it any fights, always worked hard and got good grades, not brilliant, but good enough to pass her GCSEs and not have to resist anything. She remembered her first B, that had been in Art, but when she had told her mother, Sharman had simply sighed and asked “Why wasn’t it an A? What did you do wrong?”

 

And even when she had got As, it hadn’t been enough to impress her mother.

 

Shaking her head, Keira walked up to the dairy aisle and pulled the biggest carton of milk she could find off the shelf. There weren’t many people around today, the majority of them were probably still in bed, or else had jobs that meant they worked Saturdays as well as the standard five days a week. At any rate, she was just about to ask someone where the bread aisle seemed to have been moved to, when a flash of light blue caught her eye.

 

She spun around and felt her heart hit the floor.

 

Just down the next aisle was Tom.

 

Instinctively, she ducked behind the nearest shelf, wanting to kick herself. Alright, so she hadn’t been expecting him to be here, and especially not at the same time as her, but even so, why hadn’t she put on something a bit less scruffy than just her old trackies and wearing out trainers? Meeting him in that hideous orange jumpsuit had been bad enough; and why hadn’t she thought to brush her hair properly, instead of running a comb through it once and tying it up quickly in that messy-chic style she favoured on an off day?

 

She took a step back and almost collided with a rather large old lady and her shopping basket, which was crammed with bread and groceries.

 

“For heaven’s sake, look where you’re going, can’t you?” the woman snapped.

 

“Sorry,” Keira apologised, promptly diving down to retrieve a packet of asparagus that she had accidently knocked onto the floor. The woman snatched it back from her with a haughty look and pushed past her, muttering grumpily about “Teenagers today!” under her breath.

 

“Causing a riot?”

 

She jumped and spun about to see Tom standing right behind her.

 

“No!” she exclaimed, blushing.

 

“It’s alright, I’m joking,” Tom smiled, gently.

 

Feeling foolish, a bit like a child caught imitating a teacher right before they showed up to tell them off; Keira looked awkwardly at her feet. “I didn’t expect to see you here. What did you come in for?”

 

Damn it, why had she asked that? It wasn’t any of her business what he was doing here, he had as much right be in here as she did.

 

Tom didn’t seem to mind, however, as he help up a box of toothpaste. “Not the one I usually buy, but my dentist recommended it on Thursday.”

 

“Oh, was that what you were rushing to leave for?” Keira asked, feeling her face burning.

 

Why was she asking this? To keep him distracted from noticing that she was dressed in her scruffiest clothing without any make up on? Probably.

 

“Yes, unfortunately,” Tom smiled and this time Keira managed to smile to.

 

“I hate going to the dentist too,” she admitted. “And the doctor’s. I guess I just don’t like being prodded about.”

 

“So that rules out the possibility of you marrying a medical student, then?” Tom teased.

 

Keira giggled, rubbing the back of her head, checking that her hair was still in place. “Yes, I think so.”

 

It felt easy talking to him, even here, about things that had nothing whatsoever to do with her community service. Maybe she ought to have told him about-

 

No, no, she couldn’t do that, even the thought of it made her throat constrict in fear.

 

“Um, I’ve got to get bread,” she added, glancing about, “but I think they’ve moved stuff about again. Do you-?” Tom interrupted her by pointing in the right direction and she blushed again, somewhat unnecessarily. “Oh. Right. Thanks.”

 

“See you later,” Tom said, and when she frowned at him, he added “On Thursday?”

 

“Oh!” Keira smiled. “Sorry, I thought you meant later today. I thought you might have scheduled another meeting and no one had told me.”

 

“Trust me, if I ever do need to do that, I’ll let you know,” Tom replied, smiling.

 

Keira turned away with a quick “Right, well, see you then,” only to hide her blushes. She must look like one of those sundried tomatoes that large old lady had had in her shopping basket by now, she was sure of it. She sighed. Why couldn’t she have been wearing something else, anything else? Even the jumpsuit would have been better than what she currently had on.

 

She found the right bread and made a quick dash to the counter, only to find herself in a queue, beside Tom. A huge part of her just wanted to throw everything down and run, but she knew that that would be ten times worse. Being her counsellor, he would probably run after her and ask what the problem was, and then what did she say? _“No, everything’s fine, it’s just I think I have a crush on you and now you’ve seen me looking my absolute worst I know there’s no way you’ll ever look at me twice in that way?”_ As it was, he probably just saw her as some funny little girl, even though she would be eighteen in March. He was a mature young man, and she was a young offender on community service for now seven weeks.

 

Of course there was no way he would ever look at her in that way, but she could dream, couldn’t she?

 

“Do you live close by?” Tom asked, conversationally.

 

“Um, no, I live across the park, the other side,” Keira stammered.

 

“Do you want a lift back?”

 

Her heart almost stopped when she heard that. A lift back? Had he just asked if he could drive her back?

 

“You’ve got your car?” she asked, unable to think of anything else to say. Did she want him to do that for her or didn’t she? She didn’t really know. On the one hand, she didn’t really need a lift, she could walk back no bother, it wasn’t like she had to climb a steep hill or anything to get there, and she wasn’t really sure that she wanted him to see the street she lived in. And, of course, there was the whole “Should you get into a car with someone you don’t know very well, even if they do seem nice?” bit. She didn’t expect Tom to be a serial killer or rapist or anything else horrifying, but as she had stated to him before, you couldn’t always tell just by looking.

 

On the other hand, the thought of being alone in a car with him, even if it was just for a few minutes, was very appealing.

 

“Lazy of me, I know,” Tom admitted, shrugging, “but after taking that jog earlier, I just couldn’t be bothered to walk much further.”

_He works out? Oh, God!_

 

Keira had to restrain herself from squealing out loud at the notion.

 

“A lift would be nice,” she admitted, “but I don’t want to put you out.”

 

“You wouldn’t be,” Tom insisted. “It’s no trouble.”

 

She admitted defeat, let the lust inside her win over rational thought.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Keira didn’t know much about cars, all she knew about Tom’s when she saw it was that it was black and sleek, and that she liked it very much.

 

“This is nice,” she commented, pulling her seatbelt on.

 

“Really?” Tom grinned at her. “Can I get that in writing? My friend Chris is forever teasing me about it, says I need to trade it in for a newer model.”

 

“Well, _I_ like it,” Keira insisted. “Feels like one of those you see in James Bond films.”

 

Tom wrinkled his nose. “You’re a fan?”

 

“Not really,” Keira admitted. “We used to have free lessons in the last week of school where people would bring in films for us to watch, and someone brought in Die Another Day for English. I didn’t really get into it.”

 

He grinned at her. “Good. You could have seriously put me off you if you had done.”

 

Keira giggled and leaned one elbow against the windowsill. “I never really liked the same films as everyone else. Someone put on Lord of the Rings once, but I didn’t see what all the fuss was about.”

 

“You should try reading the book,” Tom advised. “Books are always better than film adaptations.”

 

Keira thought about it. “Not always. I remember once in Year Nine, we had to read Holes, you know, by Louis Sachar, and compare it to the film. But the version they did of that was actually so close to the book that it turned out just as good.”

 

“Alright, perhaps not _always,_ then,” Tom smiled, and she giggled.

 

_Play along with the illusion, Keira, just pretend you’re fine. If he asks about home, just say everything’s fine. He doesn’t need to know it’s not._

“So,” Tom added, starting up the car, “where am I going?”

 

“Just literally over to the other side of the park and then up the top of that road,” Keira replied, sitting up a little straighter. It felt warmer in the car, somehow, or was that just her? Was she flushing again without even realising it? If she was, Tom was nice enough not to comment on it.

 

“I must say, it’s a bit odd seeing you without your jumpsuit on,” he admitted as they pulled away from the curb.

 

Keira glanced at him. “It’s a bit odd seeing you wear a blue shirt. Last time I saw you, you were wearing white, and different trousers.”

 

Tom laughed, softly. “Like seeing one of your teachers out of uniform?”

 

“Exactly,” Keira said, although really she had just said that to keep the conversation going. She liked what he was wearing now just as much as she had liked what he was wearing when they had first met. And she did wish he hadn’t just compared himself to one of her teachers, that was just too odd to fantasise about him liking her in that scenario. “I don’t always dress like this,” she added, quickly, plucking at her zip-up. “I just couldn’t be bothered to dress up today. I mean, I don’t usually do much on Saturdays, running down to the shops is sort of a highlight, really.”

 

There, that much at least was true.

 

“Not much exciting at home, then?” Tom guessed.

 

“You could say that,” Keira agreed, glancing out of the window. A sigh escaped her before she could stop it.

 

Tom glanced at her. “What?”

 

Keira shrugged. “Sometimes...well, all the time, I just wish my life was...different.”

 

Better was what she had wanted to say, but she had probably said too much already.

 

Tom was silent a while, but as they pulled up outside her house, he turned off the engine and looked at her. “Keira, I feel like I’ve got to ask this. Is everything alright with you at home?”

 

She frowned. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

 

“Because, you know if it isn’t, you can tell me,” Tom persisted, gently. “That is what I’m here for. And you can tell me things in complete confidence.”

 

For a moment, Keira seriously considered it. How bad would it actually be, to tell someone, tell Tom the reason she always crept around her house on tiptoe, the reason she woke with a feeling of dread every morning, the reason woke up in the middle of the nights to check that her door was locked properly, the reason she had started the fire, all of it. He would listen, really listen, she could feel it.

 

And yet...

 

She took a deep breath. “Tom...everything’s fine, really.”

 

Tom didn’t believe her. Her answers were too quick, too casual and there was something about the way her eyes flickered abruptly away from his afterwards, like she was hiding something. Clearly, though, it wasn’t something she wanted to go into today.

 

Fishing in his pocket, he drew out the now crumpled receipt, picked up a pen that had been sitting in the coffee cup holder between them and quickly scribbled something down before handing it to her.

 

“Well, if you ever do feel you need someone to talk to, remember it’s what I’m here for.”

 

Keira took it, her eyes widening slightly as she realised it was a mobile number.

 

“Thanks,” she said, softly, her smile genuine. She got out of the car as gracefully as she could; parking at the top of a hill always made getting in and out on the passenger’s side tricky, but somehow she managed it without falling over. “See you Thursday.”

 

“Look after yourself,” Tom replied, gently, before starting the car up again. For some reason, Keira found herself waving until he was out of sight. When he was, she quickly made her way into the house, cautiously lingering in the hallway again. Everything was quiet. She crept into the kitchen, and Janet smiled at her.

 

“That was quick,” she said.

 

“There wasn’t a queue,” Keira lied, putting the milk and the bread onto the table. “Where’s Mum?”

 

“Having a lie down and two aspirin,” Janet said, shaking her head.

 

Keira glanced, automatically, at the table where before there had been a half full bottle of vodka left over from the night before. The bottle was gone. She had a feeling _Seanmhair_ hadn’t had a chance to throw it in the recycling yet.

 

After a quiet breakfast, only quieter than usual because the radio was playing up, much to Janet’s annoyance – “How’s a person supposed to know what’s going on in the world if they don’t make radios that work as well as they ought to?” and Keira had stifled a giggle at that – she crept quietly upstairs to her room, on the pretence of wanting to go and read. Instead, however, the first thing she did after she had locked her door, was to sit on the bed, pull the crumpled receipt from her pocket and lay it out in front of her.

 

His mobile number. He had given her his mobile number.

 

Keira grabbed her pillow, lay back and kicked her feet up into the air with a little squeal of excitement. Ok, so he had given it to her in the hope that would use it to confess that her home life was far from happy, but still; he had given it to her.

 

She quickly saved it to her mobile, once again silently thanking Seanmhair for having bought her one a couple of years ago. Her mother had been less than enthusiastic, thinking there was no need for one, but her grandmother had insisted that she have one in case of emergencies.

 

“I can’t have you being attacked on the street or dropping dead of hyperglycaemic shock in the middle of the park and no one being able to tell me about it,” she had said when giving it to her.

 

Keira smiled to herself. Her Contacts list had been largely composed of _Seanmhair_ , Home, School and 999, and that was it, just the basics, the only people she would probably ever need to contact, but now there was another, below _Seanmhair_ and School.

 

Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keira’s Outfit: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fdejJGbaRV8/TENVnsIeEvI/AAAAAAAAA_8/ipCYpMAEGSg/s1600/9.png
> 
> But With THIS Colour Hair: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keira_Knightley#/media/File:KeiraKnightleyByAndreaRaffin2011.jpg


	4. "Put It Behind You"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keira is a seventeen year old serving community service, but she would rather be anywhere than at home.
> 
> Tom is her twenty six year old counsellor, very professional, but there's something about his newest counselee that makes him want to be more. 
> 
> Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know. Sometimes there are things you can't always talk about. And sometimes other things just sort of...happen...

“You’re going out?”

 

Keira was alarmed. Usually if _Seanmhair_ went out, she let Keira tag along with her, it was always “We’re going out,” not “I’m going out.” But now here she was, going out, alone.

 

“I’ll try not to be too long,” Janet sighed, tying her scarf. One of her friends had had a fall and was in hospital. “I just need to get Mary her night things and some clothes, and anything else she might need in hospital. It sounds like she might be there for a good few days.”

 

“But I can do that,” Keira cried.

 

Janet gave her a pitying look. “You wouldn’t know where to start looking in Mary’s house, sweetheart, the last time you were there you couldn’t even walk.”

 

“Please,” Keira insisted, “please don’t leave me alone with her.”

 

“She’s sleeping off the vodka, Keira, you know that always hits her hardest,” Janet insisted, but then she added, thoughtfully, “Besides, I’ll have my mobile. I can come rushing back if anything happens.”

 

Keira sighed and looked away from her. “You’re better at handling her than me. I just seem to make things worse.”

 

Janet patted her shoulder. “If she wakes, lock yourself in your room. But I doubt she will.”

 

Keira shuddered and hunched herself up, knees against her chest. The second she heard the soft click of the front door closing behind _Seanmhair,_ she felt cold. It was like one of those horror films, where the group splits up and the one who stays behind always gets killed. Pushing aside that thought, she reached for her IPod. The clink of her headphone buds together sounded so loud to her and she immediately glanced up at the open door, tense for the sound of her mother coming down the stairs. After about five minutes with nothing happening, she relaxed and switched Keane on.

 

“If I can just get through tonight...” she whispered.

 

It was Wednesday evening, meaning that the next day would be the day she had another meeting with Tom. She had been counting down the minutes since their encounter on Saturday morning, feeling warm and tingly inside whenever she remembered his number safely stored away in her phone.

 

Would he pat her shoulder again like last time?

 

She closed her eyes, imagining him hugging her. To be held by those arms, belonging to the tall man who jogged every morning, who listened to her ramblings about art and films and answered her daft, awkward questions without laughing at her, she imagined would be the most wonderful thing in the world, comfortable and warm. It was true, she reflected, she had a crush, although she wasn’t entirely comfortable using that word, it sounded so silly and childish. Crushes were things thirteen year olds got for their best friend’s brothers, not things seventeen year old girls got for their...

 

How old was he?

 

She resolved to ask him. Besides which, there were so many other things she wanted to know about him, like his favourite song, favourite food, favourite colour, what his parents were like, did he have any brothers or sisters, how long had he been counselling, had he always known it was something he wanted to do or was it inspired by something or someone else, little things like that. He had said that his job was to get her to talk to him, but surely that was a door that could be opened both ways, surely her asking him questions still qualified as him getting her to talk, because it was getting her to come up with new questions, pluck up the courage to actually ask them.

 

She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes had gone by, although being halfway through her fourth Keane song she ought to have figure that anyway. She sighed. This night was going to feel so long. She didn’t dare turn on the TV, any noise that could travel up the stairs, even through a closed door, could wake her mother, no matter how deep her stupor. Best to stick with the IPod and resist the temptation to sing along.

 

She had loved Keane right from the first time she had heard their song Bedshaped. To her, it felt like they were bards, putting poetry to music, as if they wrote poetry and then decided that the poems would be best sung rather than recited, and so that was what they did. She knew every single one of their songs off by heart, had all their albums thusfar, one time _Seanmhair_ had even taped an episode of a chat-show for her just because they were singing at the end. Her mother was always adamant that even at the age of seventeen, Keira either go to bed at a reasonable time or not at all. Keira shuddered. Why did her mother do these things to her, why did she make these rules? She didn’t really care about her daughter, if she did then she would stand by her false promises and seek help for her alcoholism and violent temper. Did she just like throwing her weight around, or did she really believe she was doing the right thing?

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Keira flinched and pulled out one headphone, a feeling like the Titanic sinking down, down, down to the depths of the ocean beginning in her stomach as she looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway. Her pale hair was mussed from sleep, her black satin kimono dressing gown hanging off her shoulders and dark circles ringing her eyes. Keira wished that her mother would have put on a nightie that was more covered up; she didn’t really want to see her hanging out right in front of her like that.

 

“Nothing,” she answered, her voice a wisp of fear.

 

Sharman scowled. “As usual.”

 

“W-what?” Keira stammered, willing her grandmother to come back at any second.

 

“You’re always doing nothing,” Sharman muttered, stumbling over to the nearest chair and folding her arms in it. “You should be out doing something.”

 

“But I have been.” The words were out before she could stop them. “I was picking litter out of the park pond for hours today, we all were.”

 

“What do you want for it? BA Honours or something?” Sharman snapped.

 

Keira closed her eyes but didn’t reply. There was no point, never was, with her mother. Had it always been like this, had they really never been able to talk to one another, ever? She couldn’t remember. After a while, as Keane finished A Bad Dream and moved onto Put It Behind You, she stammered “Maybe you should go back to bed. You look knackered.”

 

“Don’t you tell me what to do!” Sharman leapt to her feet and Keira cowered, pulling herself back to the corner of the sofa, arms raised to defend herself. “You’re getting very mouthy, you know that?”

 

“I wasn’t!” Keira protested. “I just meant-!”

 

“I know what you meant! This is all your idea, isn’t it?”

 

“W-what?”

 

“Trying to get me “help!” That’s a fancy way of saying I should be locked up in a mental home! Well, I’m not the one with the problem, got it?”

 

Keira nodded, hiding her eyes.

 

“Got it?” Sharman repeated, grabbing her suddenly by the hair.

 

“Ow!” Keira shrieked, dragged out of her seat as her mother shook her. “Yes!”

 

She threw up her hands to save her nose as the floor came rushing up to meet her. Before she could get up, Sharman knocked her back with a backhanded slap that made her cry out with the pain of it. This time, Keira couldn’t hold back the tears. She curled herself into a ball, sobbing.

 

“You don’t get to order me around in my own home, you understand?” Sharman yelled. Keira nodded, too busy crying to answer vocally. Thankfully, this time it was enough. “You are nothing, you little tart! Nothing! You shouldn’t have even been born!”

 

“I know,” Keira whimpered.

 

“Go to bed.”

 

“But it’s not even-”

 

She was interrupted as her mother yanked her to her feet. “I said get to bed! And when I say get to bed, you do as you’re told, you hear me?”

 

Keira nodded.

 

The blow came out of nowhere, before she even had time to duck or cry out, Sharman’s knuckles slamming against her cheekbone and knocking her against the wall. Keira turned and sprinted up the stairs, two at a time.

 

“They should have arrested you properly! They should have locked you up!”

 

Keira slammed the door on her mother’s rants and locked it before scrabbling onto the bed, fumbling for her mobile. Scrolling down her Contacts list, she paused, Tom’s name looking so tempting, but in the end she called _Seanmhair_ and sobbed the whole story out to her.

 

“Please come back,” she whispered, curling up on her bed, tight into herself for protection, and comfort against the pain. “Please...I can’t...”

 

“Darling, I’ll be right there, just stay in your room,” _Seanmhair_ replied, her tone worried but reassuring.

 

After she had rung off, Keira sat and rocked herself, trying to stop herself crying. Her thoughts drifted back to Tom, and somehow that soothed her. She began to relax, fumbling with her IPod and allowing Keane to sing her off to sleep.

 

She was woken an hour or so later by a knock on her door. _Seanmhair._ All she could say over and over again was “I’m sorry, Keira, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault,” and all Keira could say over and over again was “It’s alright, it’s alright.” They went down to the kitchen together and _Seanmhair_ found some ice for her swollen cheekbone.

 

“It’s not going to do much good, though,” she sighed, shaking her head. “You’ll still be bruised in the morning.”

 

Keira’s heart sank. “Oh, well, I’ll just say I fell.”

 

Something told her that Tom wouldn’t buy that excuse, but she could at least try.

 

“What happened to you?” Ben, her Probation Worker, asked the second she came into the locker room. “Don’t tell me you’ve been fighting.”

 

“I fell up some steps,” Keira shrugged. “No big deal.”

 

“Ouch,” Johnny smiled.

 

“Right, well, anyway, you lot are all on graffiti removal again,” Ben said, emitting a few sighs and groans from the rest of the group, “and don’t forget,” he added to Keira, “you’ve got another session with your counsellor later.”

 

Keira didn’t retort that her counselling session was actually the only reason she had bothered getting up that morning, she just nodded and went to put on her jumpsuit. No one in the group questioned her bruised cheek any further, they just took her story as read and didn’t care to bring it up again. She began to relax. Ben hadn’t questioned it either, so surely Tom would buy it to. When it came to the crunch, she knew how to lie.

 

Didn’t she?

 

“You found it alright this time, then?” she quipped when Tom came into the room right on time.

 

He laughed, softly. “I have a good sense of direction once I know where it is I’m going.” Then, he looked at her properly and she saw the light die in his eyes. She ducked her head, quickly, knowing that he was going ask, preparing her story. “Keira?” He crouched beside her, to her surprise. “What happened?”

 

“What? Nothing,” she replied, convincingly enough. “I just fell.”

 

Tom raised his eyebrows. “Onto someone’s fist?”

 

Keira looked at him, her eyes registering alarm before she could stop them. “What? No.”

 

He took a deep breath. “Keira, who hit you?”

 

“No one,” Keira insisted. “I tripped going up some steps.”

 

“Keira, I’m not an idiot. I see a lot of this in my line of work. Who did this to you?”

 

He could see right through her, she realised, was there any point going on like this? On the other hand, she couldn’t bring herself to tell the truth either.

 

She looked away. “I can’t tell you.”

 

“So, you admit someone hit you?” Tom asked.

 

His tone wasn’t challenging, but all the same, she hated being caught out.

 

“Can we just drop it?” She hadn’t meant to snap, although it was rather frustrating, and she immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry, I just-”

 

“No.” Tom held up his hands. “It’s my fault. You don’t have to tell me.”

 

Somehow that made her feel worse.

 

“Why are you so nice?” she whispered.

 

Tom laughed, gently, and got to his feet. “I don’t know. Usually it’s a curse. Ah,” he added, seeing Keira raise her head, “do I see a smile?”

 

She managed a laugh. “Yeah. You’re good at doing that to me.” Then, to take the pressure off herself, she fumbled in the pocket of her jumpsuit. “I did my homework.” Tom took the folded sheet of paper from her. “But I couldn’t think of a fifth one. Anything I came up with just...didn’t really sound like me.”

 

Tom smiled. “That’s alright. I told you to put down as many as you could think of.”

 

Keira relaxed, slightly, her eyes focused on his hands. They were rather large, long fingers, and the thought sent a shiver up her spine like an electrical charge. She sat up a little straighter as he unfolded the paper and then admitted “Thing is, I don’t see the art college thing ever happening, so...”

 

She shrugged and brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

 

“What makes you say that?” Tom asked.

 

Keira shrugged again. “I just don’t think I’m good enough...”

 

“Well, you won’t know until you try to get in,” Tom replied, reassuringly.

 

“Yeah, but my mum-” Her head shot up as she realised just how close she had been to letting him in on the truth. “She doesn’t make much,” she invented, smoothly. “Nor does my _seanmhair._ I don’t see us being able to scrape enough for me to go.”

 

“There are student loans,” Tom reminded her, gently.

 

“Mm.” Keira wriggled her shoulders, wishing they would get off the subject and onto something else.

 

She head Tom move and then suddenly the next thing she knew, his chair was right beside hers. She looked up, feeling her heart stutter as she looked into his caring blue eyes.

 

“Keira, if this is something you’re seriously considering doing, then I think you should do it,” Tom said, softly.

 

“With a criminal record?” Keira smiled, wearily.

 

“It’s been known to happen,” Tom replied. “This is your first offence, they’ll take that into consideration. As long as you don’t set your bedroom on fire in your first year.”

 

“Commit mattress-side?” Keira couldn’t help quipping. It was an old joke that _Seanmhair_ had come up with once, a play on words, matricide, mattress-side, and she was sure that Tom had probably heard it before, but he still laughed. “I wouldn’t,” she added, seriously. “I don’t ever want to set fire to anything ever again. It’s scary. I don’t know how professionals do it without chickening out at the last second and handing themselves in.”

 

Tom looked interested, propping one arm on the back of his chair as he turned his body in her direction. “You found it scary?”

 

“Well...” Keira lowered her legs and leaned back in her seat. “I kept remembering all that stuff when I was a kid, you know, all the films we get shown about playing with fire. There was one film, I remember, about a firefly who started a fire by accident because she was tricked into playing with matches. I kept thinking about that story. My hands kept shaking. I couldn’t even light the first three, they broke every time. It was fourth time lucky in the end, and even then, I just wanted to drop it and run. So, that’s what I did. I dropped it into the bin and then I ran for it.” She shuddered. “Fire’s scary stuff.”

 

Tom smiled, and she suddenly realised what she had been talking about, the same thing he had wanted her to talk about during their last session. She sat up and stared at him.

 

“How do you do that?” she asked.

 

Tom shrugged, carelessly. “All I did was ask if you were scared. You did the rest.”

 

“But you knew I would?” Keira insisted. “You asked me if I wanted to talk about it last time and I said “No” but you knew I’d tell you about it at some point...didn’t you?”

 

Another shrug. “I hoped you would.”

 

Keira relaxed, watching him carefully. “You’re very easy to talk to. Be careful, I could end up spilling all my secrets to you.”

 

Tom grinned. “Well, that’s up to you. I’m just trying to analyse your reasons for your actions and make sure you come out of this community service with your sanity still intact.”

 

She giggled. “I don’t think this could drive a person insane. Prison, on the other hand...”

 

Tom glanced through the window. Johnny and one of the other boys in her group, Aidan, were heading into the boys’ toilets, making a joke about something. Neither of them could make out the exact words but it sounded rather bawdy.

 

“You get on alright with your teammates?” he asked.

 

“They’re alright,” Keira shrugged. “I wouldn’t say we were friends, really, more sort of like classmates, but we seem to get on alright, yes.”

 

“What are you up to today?”

 

“Just litter patrol. Better than scraping up dog...mess.”

 

Tom laughed. “Keira, you don’t have to be polite. I won’t be offended if you call it something else.”

 

She blushed. “Dog shit, then.”

 

“Better,” Tom grinned.

 

Keira relaxed. “ _Seanmhair_ always tells me off for swearing. I think older people are more offended by it.” Glancing at Tom, she decided to just go for it. “How old are you?”

 

Tom offered her a mock offended look. “Not _that_ old.” Keira giggled. “I’m twenty six...going on forty, as Chris would say.”

 

“Is he your best friend?” Keira asked, making herself more comfortable as she turned to face him, leaning her cheek on her hand. “You mentioned him on Saturday too.”

 

“Yes, he is.”

 

“Where did you meet him?”

 

“We were roommates at university together. He was studying sport, I was studying psychology and counselling, and when we weren’t doing that, we spent most of our free time drinking ourselves silly in the Student union bar.”

 

Keira giggled. “I can’t quite picture you drunk.” Then, seriously, she added, softly “You never got violent or anything, did you?”

 

“No, nothing like that,” Tom replied. “We just used to get loud, talking very loudly and getting told off for it, waking up hung-over in the morning.”

 

They were straying into dangerous territory, and she was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She changed the subject. “What’s it like at university? Did you miss your parents?”

 

Tom thought about it. “A bit, at first. The first night not sleeping at home always feels weird. But I think by the time I actually left, I was ready to stop living with my family and start living by myself, learning to cook and clean without their input. After a while, you get used to it, it becomes second nature.”

 

“You don’t still live together, do you?” Keira asked.

 

“Me and Chris?” Tom laughed. “No. Much as I like him, I couldn’t live with him again. He’s more lax about tidiness and personal hygiene than I am.”

 

“So, you’re a neat freak, then?”

 

“I suppose you could say that. What about you?”

 

She shrugged. “I’m usually tidy, but then my room’s not that big, so it’s easy to be.” They were both silent a minute, each trying to come up with something to say, and then she added, boldly “You know, I think Chris is very lucky, having a friend like you.”

 

Tom flushed, automatically. “Well, I can be your friend too. I mean, I’d like you to think of me as a friend and not just some adult who can dictate to you.”

 

Keira frowned. “Excuse me, _I’ll_ be an adult in March.” Tom chuckled and she relaxed. “But thanks. I’d like that too.”

 

By the time their session was over, again all too quickly for her liking, Keira had almost forgotten about the bruise on her cheek.


	5. "Early Winter"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keira is a seventeen year old serving community service, but she would rather be anywhere than at home.
> 
> Tom is her twenty six year old counsellor, very professional, but there's something about his newest counselee that makes him want to be more. 
> 
> Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know. Sometimes there are things you can't always talk about. And sometimes other things just sort of...happen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone comments that Keane didn’t write the song Early Winter, they friggin’ did, or rather Tim Rice-Oxley wrote it for Gwen Stefani to sing and then the band recorded it to show her how it would sound. GS then changed the lyrics and had a hit with it. Personally, I prefer the original version, you can find it here: https://youtu.be/WhC5Tmb4WSY. Just wanted to get that out of the way because someone once told me that they just covered it, which is wrong because you can’t cover something you’ve written, now can you? Anyway, just saying.

She was prepared this time, just in case.

 

Alright, so Tom had already seen her scruffiest clothes and not exactly looking her best already, but she didn’t want a repeat of last Saturday if she did run into him again in Tesco’s, not that she thought for a minute that she would. But if she did, then at least she wouldn’t be caught out looking her worst, again.

 

The neatest outfit she actually owned was a green tunic dress over leggings and a long sleeved black T-shirt and flat black pumps, but it would do better than her scruffiest joggers and trainers combo. She made sure to brush and tie her hair back neatly this time and swipe on some foundation. The bruise on her cheek was less noticeable now, thankfully, but all the same she prayed that she wouldn’t get any more of them anytime soon. A quick spray of perfume and she felt prepared to run into him without feeling at a lost, not that she was expecting him to see her and instantly realise she wasn’t a little girl anymore, nothing like that, she just wanted to show him that she didn’t always go out looking like she’d just rolled out of bed and into the first set of clothes she happened to find lying on her bedroom floor.

 

She blushed, thinking again about him patting her shoulder after their first session. He hadn’t done it the second time, but she understood now that perhaps it had just been a reassuring gesture the first time, to put her at ease. She longed to feel that touch again, even if it was only briefly. It had been nice, having someone do that for a change, as opposed to hitting her.

 

“Mm, you look nice, hoping to impress someone?” Janet commented as she came downstairs. “Oh, don’t tell me they’ve started hiring cute boys to run the tills?”

 

Keira blushed, untangling her headphones. “No, I just...felt sort of grungy last time I went out, you know, in my trackies.”

 

She plugged into Keane, as usual, and _Seanmhair_ smiled, secretly, to herself, having seen through that tiny white lie just as Tom had seen through her excuses on Thursday. Still, she didn’t tease, after all, she could remember being a teenager herself. Keira fell into step beside her as they left the house. Her mother was sleeping off the effects of another night on the drink, although she didn’t seem to have hit it as hard as she normally did on a Friday night, and had said that she would do some washing later, although Keira doubted that she would, or at least that she would wash it properly. Last time she had forgotten to put the washing powder in, and the time before that she had forgotten to switch the machine on at all.

 

There was never any point in complaining, however, she knew. Her mother would only shout and get violent.

 

She looked around, hopefully, as they stepped into the supermarket, although she didn’t really expect him to be there. It was probably just a coincidence that they had ended up in the store at the exact same time the week before and not fate, but a girl could dream, couldn’t she. She trailed along behind _Seanmhair_ diligently, nodding each time her grandmother ticked off an item on the shopping list but not really paying attention. Shopping with _Seanmhair_ always felt like a reward, a well-earned break after putting up with her mother’s violent mood swings. Outside of the house, it felt like she could live inside her head, lose herself in music and forget her frightening reality for a while.

 

“Typical!” Seanmhair shook her head and scowled about. “They’ve moved everything around again! Why can they never make it easy?”

 

Keira giggled. “The bread’s over there.”

 

“Where’s the cereal?” _Seanmhair_ muttered.

 

Keira looked around and then her heart leapt in excitement.

 

“I think it’s that way,” she said, quickly, pointing to the aisle she had just seen him disappear down. “I’ll get it.”

 

As casually as she could manage, even though she was longing to race up and say “Hello” to him, she paced down the aisle, pretending not to notice him as he turned in her direction just as she was reaching for a box of Weetabix. To her frustration, even standing on her tiptoes like Darcy Bussell, her fingertips only just brushed the edge of the box.

 

“Come on,” she muttered, trying to ease the box down without knocking it down on top of herself, how embarrassing would that be?

 

“Do you need a hand?” Tom asked, stepping up.

 

Keira looked up, feeling her stomach flurry with butterflies all over again.

 

“Oh, hi,” she said, maintaining casual cheerfulness. “Um, thanks, I’m not really tall enough.” Tom reached the box down to her and she smiled, gratefully. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Tom smiled. Keira could tell that he had taken in what she was wearing, and a huge part of her wanted to smile, coquettishly, and say “See? I told you I don’t always wear joggers,” in a flirtatious manner, but she resisted. That could make things seriously awkward between them. “Let me guess, hot lunch date?”

 

Keira blushed. “No, I just...woke up in a good mood today.”

 

Or rather, she had woken up hoping to run into him again and that had put her in a good mood, but he didn’t need to know that.

 

“Well, your cheek looks better,” Tom pointed out.

 

“I know, I put some ice on it last night, the swelling’s gone down a lot,” Keira replied, hugging the cereal box against her just for want of something to do with her hands.

 

A strange look crossed his face then, one of something she couldn’t quite read, but then it was gone again. She tried not to frown. For a second there, it looked as if Tom had been, what, angry that someone had hit her? Curious about how she could be so casual about it? Disappointed that she wouldn’t tell him who had done it to her in the first place? At any rate, it had only lasted a few seconds, so quickly that she had barely notice it at all.

 

“What are you after?” she added, quickly. “Don’t tell me you’ve run out of toothpaste already?”

 

Tom laughed, softly. She liked his laugh, she decided, but then there were many things about him that she liked. “No, I’m just stocking up on food, otherwise it’ll end up being takeaway tonight – again.”

 

Keira giggled, shyly.

 

“What are you listening to?” Tom added, seeing her IPod for the first time.

 

“Oh.” Keira held it up for him to see the screen. Keane, Early Winter. “I love their version of this. I don’t know why Gwen Stefani had to change the words around when she sang it.”

 

Tom looked surprised. “You like Keane?”

 

Keira nodded, wondering whether that was a good thing or a bad thing in his eyes. So far, they had agreed about almost everything else they had discussed. She couldn’t bear it if he rubbished her favourite music. “I’ve got every single one of their albums.”

 

Tom shook his head in wonder, and her heart sank, only to be lifted up again when he smiled “You know, you’re the first person I’ve met who doesn’t think their music’s “dreary.”

 

She giggled at his use of air quotes. “Does Chris think that?”

 

“Put it this way, the first two months I was sharing a room with him, he used to walk out of the room if I started playing one of their songs,” Tom replied. “Or chuck his pillow at me, one or the other.”

 

They both laughed.

 

“My _seanmhair_ always says their music’s depressing,” Keira admitted. “Says she can’t understand why I listen to them. But that didn’t stop her from buying me their last album for Christmas.”

 

Tom smiled. “I wouldn’t have thought a girl like you would be into their music at all.”

 

She wriggled her shoulders. “I think it helps me concentrate, you know, when I’m doing homework and stuff. Or when I did my art exam, I was allowed to have my IPod as long as it didn’t disturb anyone else. I think that’s why painting turned out so well.”

 

“I always found it good for concentration too,” Tom replied, conversationally. He always talked to her like she was already an adult, Keira realised, not like she was still some tearaway teenager who needed to be talked at rather than to. “I only really got into them, though, when I found out that they’d based one of their songs on a-”

 

“Poem by Yeats,” Keira breathed, eyes wide at the fact he knew that. _“An Irish Airman Foresees His Downfall._ I love that poem.”

 

“Really? You like Yeats?”

 

“I think so. I mean, I like that poem, and we read one in school once called _The Stolen Child,_ and I quite liked that one too.”

 

“Keira.” Both of them looked up to see Janet making her way down the aisle towards them. “How long can it take you to get one box of cereal?”

 

Keira felt the colour rush to her cheeks. “Sorry, _Seanmhair.”_

 

“My fault, I’m afraid,” Tom said, offering Janet a rather charming smile that sent the fluttering feeling in Keira’s stomach straight downwards in an instant. “I kept her talking.”

 

Keira relaxed a little. “Um, this is my grandmother. _Seanmhair,_ this is Tom, my counsellor.”

 

“Oh!” Janet smiled, cheerily. “Well, it’s nice to meet you at last. Keira says you’re very good at what you do.”

 

“Well, I try my best,” Tom replied, modestly, although Keira could tell that he was impressed. “On a good day, I can usually get them to open up about something, at least.”

 

“We were talking about music,” Keira said, quickly, to divert her grandmother’s attention. She didn’t want her to know that she had been seriously tempted to tell Tom the truth about her home situation a few times since meeting him.

 

“Oh.” Janet rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re another Keane fan.”

 

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact,” Tom admitted.

 

“Suicide music, I call it.”

 

_“Seanmhair!”_

“Right, come on, you,” Janet added, “you can help me carry this lot to the till before my arms drop off.”

 

Keira smiled, apologetically, at Tom. “See you on Thursday.”

 

“See you,” Tom agreed, “oh, and-”

 

Keira whipped about to face him, her heart rate picking up in eager anticipation.

 

“Careful on those steps this time,” Tom said, gently, although his eyes were meaningful. She sense something deeper behind his words – be careful at home, be safe, don’t let anyone hurt you. “I’ve heard they can be lethal.”

 

A chill ran through her and she suppressed the urge to shudder. Thankfully, Seanmhair was too far away to hear them, already halfway back up the aisle.

 

“It won’t happen to me again,” she whispered.

 

Tom leaned closer to her. “Remember you’ve got my number. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

 

Keira resisted the urge to suddenly fling herself into his arms and spill out the whole story to him.

 

“Ok,” she whispered, nodding, before turning and sprinting after her grandmother.

 

“Mm, now it makes sense,” Janet teased. “He is rather dishy!”

 

 _“Seanmhair!”_ Keira hissed, blushing bright crimson.

 

“And he shares your taste in music, that’s always a bonus. I would have thought it impossible that anyone would,” Janet laughed, giving her a friendly nudge.

 

Keira glanced discreetly back over her shoulder, watching Tom extract a box off the shelf and put it into the basket at his feet. He looked up, meeting her eyes and she quickly looked away. He knew someone had hit her, and now, she could tell, he was beginning to realise that it probably _was_ someone in her family, someone close to her.

 

What then? Would he tell someone else? Would he make her go to the police about it?

 

Why didn’t she?

 

She knew why.

 

Fear. Fear of only making things worse.

 

“Hey, you could do worse, you know,” Janet added, giving her another nudge. “Being a counsellor can’t be that bad a job, must pay reasonably well.”

 

 _“Seanmhair,_ will you please just drop it?” Keira insisted. “It’s not like that at all.”

 

“Then why is your face redder than those tomatoes over there?” Janet asked. Keira looked away and she smiled. “Keira, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, teenage girls get crushes, and quite often on older people, it’s normal.”

 

“I don’t want it to be just a crush, though,” Keira sighed. Her _seanmhair_ frowned and she elaborated. “He’s really nice. I like talking to him. But I think he just sees me as some funny little girl.”

 

“Keira, when you’ve been talking to him, you’ve not told him...about..?”

 

Janet gestured to her cheek.

 

Keira shook her head. “No. I told him I fell up some steps.”

 

“Good girl,” Janet replied, patting her arm before bustling away down the next aisle. Keira sighed as she followed. It wasn’t the same as feeling Tom’s hand pat her shoulder; it wasn’t a comfort in the same way. She knew what _Seanmhair’s_ reason for not telling anyone her daughter needed help was – much as she thought her only child was an idiot for not getting herself straightened out, she couldn’t bear the thought of her being locked away. At the end of the day, she was still her mother and still loved her.

 

Crossing her fingers for luck, Keira followed her grandmother, and prayed that Tom wouldn’t bring up the subject of her bruised cheek ever again.

 

Down in the cereal aisle, Tom pulled out his phone and texted his best friend.

 

_Fancy grabbing some lunch?_

_What; now?_

_Fine, brunch, then. I need to tell you something._

_Taking on your job now, am I? Sure I’m qualified? ;)_

_All you need to do is eat and listen. I think I’ve found something out about Keira._

_Alright, see you in half an hour, then._

Pocketing his phone, Tom made for the frozen food aisle, his mind racing. If he hadn’t been certain of it before, he was now, something, gut instinct inside told him that he wasn’t just making mountains out of molehills. The bruises, her shy manner, her attempts to divert the conversation away from her home life, her nervousness whenever it was brought up, quite possibly her whole reason for committing arson in the first place, they all amounted to one conclusion.

 

Someone was abusing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keira’s Dress: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/71/83/92/71839230ed0b06c67495f6c1106fa6bc.jpg


	6. "Disconnected"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keira is a seventeen year old serving community service, but she would rather be anywhere than at home.
> 
> Tom is her twenty six year old counsellor, very professional, but there's something about his newest counselee that makes him want to be more. 
> 
> Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know. Sometimes there are things you can't always talk about. And sometimes other things just sort of...happen...

 

“So, you think she’s being abused by someone in her family?” Chris asked.

 

“She didn’t get that bruise on her cheek from tripping up some stairs, Chris,” Tom replied, firmly, shaking his head. “And that’s usually one of the first excuses anyone uses as a cover up; well, that or being hit by a door.”

 

Chris nodded, thoughtfully. “But you said her grandmother seems alright, so that rules her out.”

 

“Grandparents don’t tend to do that. It’s got to be someone closer.” Tom thought for a minute. “Could be her parents, her brothers or sisters, an abusive cousin; I don’t really know that much about her family, she’s only ever mentioned her grandmother so far.”

 

“What does that suggest to you?” Chris asked, reaching for his coffee.

 

“That she’s the only one who shows her any love,” Tom replied.

 

His tone betrayed his concern. Chris glanced at his best friend with a frown.

 

“You...you care a lot about her, don’t you?” he guessed.

 

Tom shrugged, feigning casualness. “I care about all the people I work with, especially when they’re young and vulnerable.”

 

“Oh, really?” Chris teased, his eyes mischievous.

 

“Not like that,” Tom protested, flushing.

 

“Well, you’ve just gone red talking about her,” Chris pointed out.

 

Toms sighed and pushed away his empty plate to lean his arms on the table. “I just feel a bit useless, you know. I’m supposed to be helping her get her life back on track, but how can I do that if she won’t talk to me properly?”

 

“Is she pretty?”

 

“For a teenager, yes, she’s very beautiful, but that’s neither here nor there.”

 

Chris laughed. “Sounds like someone’s got a bit of a crush.”

 

Tom wrinkled his nose. “Don’t say that?”

 

“Why not? She’ll be eighteen soon and then it won’t seem like such a big deal.”

 

“I’m her counsellor, Chris, it’s unprofessional.”

 

“So? That doesn’t mean it’s unheard of,” Chris shrugged. “For all you know, she might feel the same way.”

 

“Still,” Tom insisted. “It could cost me my job if I took advantage of that.”

 

“Ok, but like you said, being a counsellor means you care about the people you work with, so that’s not unprofessional, no one can blame you for that,” Chris pointed out.

 

Tom had to agree with him on that. “I think she knows that I know she’s been lying about her home life, suppose that’s a start.”

 

“What are you going to do if she does tell you the truth?” Chris asked.

 

Tom thought for a moment. “Convince her to report the abuse. Find a way for her to get out of there and start a new life.”

 

“With you?” Chris teased, immediately regretting it when he received a flick from the cold water jug in his face.

 

“She knows she can call me if she needs to,” Tom stated.

 

“You gave her your number?” Tom nodded and Chris whistled. “That’s brave. I don’t give any of my kids my home phone number.”

 

“That’s because you work with a group of energetic hooligans,” Tom smiled. “Whereas I work with people who are vulnerable.”

 

Chris grinned. Tom had a point; he wouldn’t label any of the kids he taught in P.E as “vulnerable.”

 

“You don’t usually hand out your number, though, do you?” he asked.

 

“I’ve never met someone who I think might need it before,” Tom admitted.

 

XXX

 

Keira lay on her bed, bored out of her mind. Sundays were always oddly quiet in the house; her mother was generally sober but grumpy and always sat downstairs in the living room watching the television whilst _Seanmhair_ flittered about the kitchen making dinner. Keira was always left to herself. Mostly on days like today she would go and sit in the park with Keane and people watch, but somehow she didn’t feel like doing that today. She couldn’t be bothered to pick up a book, or find something to do on the internet, some game to play or chatroom to explore.

 

She didn’t really know what she felt like doing.

 

Something fluttered to the floor from the pocket of her old joggers, stuffed in the washing basket in the corner of the room. She glanced up. It was a scrap of crumpled paper. Curiously, she clambered off the bed and picked it up. It was the receipt Tom had written his number down for her on.

 

Tom.

 

A thrilling feeling ran through her. Could she do it? Did she really have the courage to phone him up? Of course she couldn’t bring herself to admit that she was being abused, but could she actually phone him, just to hear his voice?

 

She blushed, feeling a squirming feeling writhing in her stomach and downwards, like yesterday at the store. She couldn’t help finding his voice soothing, those deep soft tones that made her feel safe. Last night she had fallen asleep hugging her pillow, pretending that he was holding her, imagining the warmth of his arms about her, and imagined that she could hear him talking softly to her, just talking about anything, really, and she had felt truly protected for the first time in her life. And now, this morning, she had touched herself to the image of him in her mind, imagining that it was him touching her like that until she was whimpering his name into her pillow.

 

Did she really have the courage to call him up after she had been thinking about him like that?

 

Keira sat on her be, cross-legged and thought. What if she phoned him up and he was busy? What if he had family ‘round for dinner, or what if he had someone else ‘round? Her stomach writhed a little with a feeling of jealousy that she didn’t much like. On the other hand, what if he didn’t? What if he was spending the day alone? He might be grateful of a call from someone familiar then.

 

But wouldn’t he wonder why she was calling? She couldn’t just tell him that it was because she was bored and wanted to talk to someone, or that it was because she had a crush on him and was itching to hear his voice again, even though he had talked to her only the day before, and it would only be three days after this until their next session.

 

She took a chance. After all, he might be too busy to pick up. She dialled the number and held her breath, listening to the ringing on the other side and half-hoping that it would go straight to Answerphone. So certain was she that it would that when Tom answered, she almost dropped her mobile in shock.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi, it’s...Keira,” she managed to say, her heart clenching in excitement. She had been very tempted to say “Hi, it’s me,” but somehow that just hadn’t sounded right in her head.

 

There was a tiny pause and then Tom asked “Is everything alright?”

 

She nodded and then remembered he couldn’t see her. He sounded so concerned, it melted her heart. “Yes, everything’s fine.” Hesitantly, she added “Sorry, I think I just wanted to check that I hadn’t logged your number into my phone wrong. I’ve done that before, put down nines instead of sixes or something, but if you’re busy-”

 

“Keira, I’m not busy, it’s fine,” Tom interrupted, smiling gently, “although you did have me a bit worried there for a second.”

 

She face-planted. “Yeah, sorry, maybe I should have texted you instead.”

 

“Really, it’s alright,” Tom insisted. “Why don’t we treat this as a practise run for now?”

 

“Like a fire drill?” Keira smiled, shyly.

 

“Exactly. You know, it took a lot of courage for you to call me anyway. Not many people in your position feel like they can do that, they prefer to do things face to face.”

 

“I think I do too. But it’s nice knowing I can, you know, literally talk to you whenever.” Shyly, Keira glanced at her feet. “So, what are you doing today, then, if you’re not busy?”

 

“Nothing, really,” Tom admitted. Keira imagined that he was sitting on the sofa, perhaps even reclining on it. What was he wearing; something like she had seen him wear yesterday, or was he even dressed at all? Did he, like her, potter about the house on Sunday mornings in pyjamas and dressing gown? “Caught up on some much needed sleep earlier, and then I’m scheduled to clean this place from top to bottom, but other than that...”

 

Keira giggled. “So, you’re not having anyone ‘round for dinner then?”

 

“No, all my family live further over,” Tom replied. “I would ask Chris but he’s got plans. What about you?”

 

Keira shrugged, even though he couldn’t see her doing that. “Just me and my family. Sundays are always quiet over here.”

 

“Keira, are you sure everything’s alright there?”

 

“Yes, everything’s fine.” She could tell that he didn’t believe her. Why was she so intent on protecting her mother all the time? Why couldn’t she just force herself to tell him? “It’s just the same as usual.”

 

“Alright,” Tom replied, patiently, as she crossed her fingers behind her back. “I just thought I’d check.”

 

Had she been too defensive? She took a deep breath. “I haven’t fallen up anymore steps yet.”

 

“Glad to hear it.”

 

Awkwardly, she tried to move the conversation over to something else, anything. “What are you having for dinner? _Seanmhair’s_ cooking turkey, so our whole house smells like Christmas at the minute.”

 

Tom laughed. “I haven’t decided yet, could be chicken, could be beef or it could just be completely vegetarian, I’m not sure.”

 

She liked that she could make him laugh.

 

“I’ll probably be bringing in leftover turkey sandwiches for the next week or so,” she noted. “The others’ll be teasing me that I’m getting ready for Christmas early.”

 

“That reminds me,” Tom said, and she imagined he was now sitting up a little on his sofa, although of course she could have no way of knowing whether or not he was. “I was going to ask you this at our last session but it sort of went out of my head. Were you bullied in school?”

 

Keira stiffened. “A little bit, but that sort of phased out when I got to Year 10.” She bit her lip. “It’s because I had dyslexia. I mean, it doesn’t really affect me much now, but I needed help with reading and stuff in the first couple of years, and...a few people thought that was something to laugh about.”

 

“Well, they were wrong,” Tom said, gently.

 

“I know.” Keira pushed out the memories of someone else bullying her over her dyslexia, glass of gin in one hand whilst the other rained down harsh blows upon her, punctuating the words “Thick!” and “Useless!” over and over again. “But...it still hurt a bit.”

 

“You wouldn’t be the first young offender I’ve worked with who’s been bullied,” Tom replied. “Actually, most people in your position tend to have been teased at school, sometimes that’s why they act up.”

 

Keira wondered what he was getting at. She didn’t say anything.

 

“Either that or they’re having problems at home,” Tom added, softly.

 

“I always thought most of them did it because they were just plain nutjobs,” Keira muttered, stiffly. “Johnny who I work with seems a bit like that sometimes.”

 

“Well, yes, sometimes,” Tom replied, and she could hear him smiling again. “Sometimes they just end up gaining ASBOs or bad reputations for no reason.”

 

“Or because they think they’re being cool,” Keira agreed. Then, she added “Did...did you always know you wanted to be a counsellor?” Tom was quiet a minute and she wondered if she had just strayed into forbidden territory in asking that. “Forget that, it was a stupid thing to say, I was just curious-”

 

“Keira, it’s alright,” Tom interrupted, gently. “And, no, I didn’t always know I wanted to be a counsellor. It all started when my parents divorced, and I felt like I needed a distraction while I was away at boarding school. So, I started spending a lot of time in the library, and I discovered a book on psychology. That was where it all began. The next thing I know, I’m studying it in university with an untidy roommate eating all our food when I’m not looking.”

 

Keira giggled. “I’m sorry about your parents,” she added, in a serious tone. “That must have been pretty distressing.”

 

She imagined Tom shrugging at his end. “It’s alright. They’re still on good terms, they just couldn’t take living together any longer. We’re still a family.”

 

The way he said “family” caused warmth to pool inside her stomach and she felt like cuddling up into a ball. She pictured being in his arms, again, folded up so small that his entire body enveloped hers in a feeling of love.

 

She wished she could be brave like him.

 

“Did you like boarding school? Was it very strict?”

 

Tom laughed. “Not the one I went to, no.”

 

“No midnight feasts in the corridors or anything?”Keira couldn’t help teasing.

 

“Not unless we actually wanted to get a detention,” Tom quipped back.

 

Keira giggled, but was cut off by a knock on her door. “Oh.” She sighed, disappointed. “I think dinner’s ready. I’d better go and help _Seanmhair.”_

 

“Alright.” Tom’s tone was serious now. “But I’m glad you felt you could get in touch with me. That means a lot.”

 

“Even if it was just for a practise run?”

 

“Even then.”

 

Keira smiled. “Thanks, well, I guess I’ll see you Thursday, then.”

 

“Right,” Tom murmured. “And you keep safe, you hear me?” Keira nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “No more tripping up steps.”

 

“I hear you,” Keira whispered, and then quickly ended the call, her heart racing. He cared about her? He actually cared about her safety? Her head was reeling.

 

“Keira, hurry up, will you?” came _Seanmhair’s_ voice from downstairs. “Or you’ll go hungry, I mean it.”

 

Keira all but bounded down the stairs, her spirits lifted higher than the sun, feeling that, for a few heavenly minutes, she had been in another world, disconnected from reality, a world where Tom waited to take care of her.


	7. "Again and Again"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keira is a seventeen year old serving community service, but she would rather be anywhere than at home.
> 
> Tom is her twenty six year old counsellor, very professional, but there's something about his newest counselee that makes him want to be more. 
> 
> Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know. Sometimes there are things you can't always talk about. And sometimes other things just sort of...happen...

“What scares you, Keira?”

 

She looked up at him. First question of the day after they had exchanged pleasant greetings, and it had taken her by surprise.

 

“Scares me?”

 

“Everyone’s scared of something,” Tom smiled, gently. “What are you scared of most?”

 

Keira was grateful that he hadn’t made her feel like an idiot for being surprised by that question. Inwardly, though, she did wonder if this wasn’t his way to try to get her to open up about her home life.

 

“Being hurt,” she shrugged, “or let down by people I’m supposed to trust. Getting my heart broken.”

 

Tom wrote that down with a sympathetic look. “Everyone gets scared of that. You said that you found fire scary last week.”

 

“Well, doesn’t everyone?” Keira brought her knees up to her chin. “I mean, it’s not really something I think about, but if our house caught fire,” and given the amount of alcohol within it, she wouldn’t be surprised if it did one day, “I’d be terrified. I think even professional arsonists must get a bit scared that they’ll set themselves alight if they’re not careful.”

 

Tom nodded. “Situation Phobia.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“That’s what I call fears that everyone has, fears of things like sharks or fire or dangerous criminals, things you wouldn’t be afraid of if you knew you were safe from them but which you would be afraid of if you found yourself in a situation with one.”

 

Keira nodded. “I would be afraid if I fell into the sea and there were man-eating sharks all around. I’m not really a very strong swimmer.”

 

“Word of advice,” Tom smiled, jotting it all down, “never go swimming right after watching Jaws.”

 

Keira laughed. “We watched that in school once. I had to sit under the table watching through my fingers.” Then, she thought about his question properly. “If we’re talking about phobias...I think I’m scared of bees.” Tom looked up at her, his expression registering surprise. “I know I shouldn’t be, everyone tells me that they won’t hurt me if I don’t hurt them, but...”

 

“What?” Tom prompted, gently.

 

“Well, when I was about seven, or I might have been eight, I can’t remember, we went on a school trip to Kew Gardens – have you ever been there?”

 

Tom smiled. “A few times when I was younger.”

 

“Well, I loved it, except because it was summer there were so many bumble bees around, and, well, a couple of my classmates thought it would be funny to flick the sprinklers on and aim them at a couple of big ones buzzing about some roses. I was watching, and for some reason, I guess the bees thought I’d done it, they came straight at me. I was terrified. I had to run indoors and everyone laughed and said I was just being silly but...well, every time I hear a bee buzzing, I get scared all over again.”

 

“Melissaphobia,” Tom said. “That’s what that’s called, fear of bees.”

 

Keira smiled. “How do you know this stuff?”

 

“It’s my job to know it,” Tom reminded her.

 

Keira watched him writing, feeling herself relax. So far he hadn’t mentioned her being safe, or tripping up anymore stairs, all he had done when he came in was ask her if she was alright, and she suspected he did that with all his counselees and not just her.

 

She was about to ask what he was scared of, when a phone beeped somewhere, and she looked about.

 

“Damn, thought I’d put that on silent,” Tom muttered, extracting his mobile and checking it. His expression was unreadable as he slid it back into his pocket. “Just my sister, I’ll call her later.”

 

“You have a sister?” Keira asked, brightening a little. She felt like she was learning more and more about Tom each time they met, more than he was learning about her life at any rate.

 

“Two,” Tom admitted.

 

“Any brothers?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Aw, so you’re the only boy? Do you ever feel outnumbered?”

 

Tom laughed. “Not really. I suppose it’s because I’m the middle child.”

 

“Oh. Is that better or worse than being the youngest?” Keira asked.

 

“I have no idea,” Tom smiled, “and even my best friend can’t tell me because he’s the middle child in his family too.” Keira giggled. “What about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

 

She shook her head. “No, it’s just me.”

 

“That must be peaceful.”

 

Keira wriggled her shoulders. “Sometimes it’s a bit lonely. I think it’d be nice to have an older brother. Or a younger one. I don’t think I’d get along with a sister.”

 

“What about your mother?” Tom asked.

 

Keira stiffened. Tom noticed that her whole posture was suddenly defensive. “What about her?” she asked, stiffly.

 

“Does she have any siblings?”

 

“Oh. No.”

 

“Does your father?”

 

Keira allowed a shrug to do for that answer, which surprised him, but he didn’t press the matter. Once again he seemed to have strayed into a territory that she would have preferred to have avoided altogether. “I don’t think you’re missing out on much,” he said, quickly, pretending to be looking for something in his notebook. “I mean, I’m friends with my sisters now, but we did used to row when we were younger.”

 

She managed a smile. “I can’t imagine you ever rowing with anyone. You’re the mildest person I know. I mean,” she added, glancing out of the window, “compared to that lot.”

 

Tom looked where she was looking. Johnny and Hayley looked to be having some kind of row about something petty, typical of teenagers, especially ones with ASBOs. He smiled. “Are you sure you’re in the right place? You still don’t strike me as the type who’d set fire to a building.”

 

“What type _do_ I strike you as?” Keira asked, turning to face him.

 

“The quiet type,” Tom admitted, “the one who reads sits at home and reads books whilst the rest of the crowd go out clubbing until midnight.”

 

Keira smiled, dropping her eyes to the notebook. “That does sort of sound like me.”

 

“And yet you _do_ set fire to a building,” Tom pointed out, “which proves the point you made when we first met.”

 

“You can’t tell by looking,” Keira remembered with a smile. Suddenly she felt embarrassed, and ducked her head. “You remember me saying that?”

 

“Keira, it _was_ only three weeks ago,” Tom reminded her.

 

“Still...” She shrugged. “Not everyone remembers things they say when they first meet people, or the things those people say to them.”

 

Inwardly, she was touched. Perhaps there was hope for her after all.

 

“What are you back to now?” Tom asked when it was time, once again all too soon, for them to part.

 

“ABC gum collecting,” Keira replied, “from the underside of desks. It’s not really pretty if you don’t wear a mask. Last time Johnny nearly swallowed some.”

 

Tom laughed, lightly, and picked up his things. “Well, if I don’t run into you at the supermarket, I’ll see you next week.”

 

“Yeah,” Keira agreed, brightly, hoping secretly that they might run into each other before then. Then, cheekily, she added “Don’t forget to call your sister,” before hopping away from him, yes, hoping, at least that was what it felt like as she hurried back to where the others were scraping gum off the desks. Johnny and Hayley looked to have finished their fight by now, although they kept glaring at each other murderously, causing Aiden to stifle a giggle with a coughing fit when he saw them doing it.

 

Tom shook his head fondly although he left the Community Centre worried, about two things. The first of course, was Keira. The second was about himself, worried that he might be starting to have feelings for her after all.

 

Keira remained optimistically cheerful all the way home, even listening to the faster, somewhat more cheerful Keane songs on her IPod, that is, at least, until she got inside. She could hear the row in the living room before she even opened the front door, even though the door to that room was closed. She shook her head and closed the front door, intent on escaping to her bedroom as quickly as possible. Before she could even do more than put one foot on the bottom step, however, the living room door was flung open and Sharman staggered out.

 

Keira froze. She could tell from the bloodshot eyes that her mother was more than just a little drunk. For once she was dressed properly, albeit in baggy jeans and a shirt that looked like it should have been washed weeks ago, but her hair was wild and there were mascara rings around her eyes.

 

“Why can’t you just leave me be?” she bellowed at Janet. “I am a grown woman! I’ll do what I like!” Then, she noticed Keira standing immobilised on the stairs. “What are you staring at?”

 

The glass came flying towards her before she had time to duck properly. All she could do was shield her face, shrieking as the glass hit the wall behind her and shattered, shards scratching her hands and the side of her face, drawing blood.

 

“What is wrong with you?” Janet shouted, shoving her daughter to one side as she hurried to Keira. “You could have had her eyes out!”

 

Keira realised that she was shaking as she lowered her arms, both in fear and anger. Her mother had never thrown a glass before, other things, yes, things that wouldn’t break at her, but this was terrifying. And for what? All because she had happened to walk in just when her mother opened a door.

 

“Why do you do this?” The words came tumbling out before she could stop them. “Why do you have to ruin everything by being like this? What’s the matter with you?”

 

Both women stared at her, and she couldn’t blame them. Tom had right about her being the quiet girl in the group, this wasn’t like her, she never talked back and she had certainly never, in the seventeen years she had known her mother, challenged her about her drink problem.

 

“Keira, go upstairs,” Janet told her. “Clean yourself up.”

 

Sharman narrowed her eyes. “What did you say to me?”

 

Keira turned and began to run up the stairs. She only made it three steps up, however, before she was seized by the back of her shirt and dragged back down again, slammed against the wall so hard that she squeaked in pain.

 

“Sharman, leave her alone,” Janet commanded, trying to pull her daughter’s hand off her granddaughter’s shirt. “Let go.”

 

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a dog!” Sharman snapped.

 

Keira wriggled, wondering if she could possibly wriggle out of her shirt like this. She found that she couldn’t. Thankfully, Sharman quickly let go of her, only to give her a shove that sent her sprawling against the bottom step. Heart racing, panting, Keira scrabbled to her feet and managed this time to climb the stairs, taking them two at a time, before collapsing through her own bedroom door. For a second, she stood stock still, frozen at the sound of her mother’s footsteps coming up the stairs behind her, and then common sense prevailed, and she slammed the door. Before she could lock it, however, Sharman forced it open again, pushing it such a violent force that she knocked Keira off her feet and into her wardrobe, banging her head, shoulder and both elbows painfully.

 

“You ever talk back like that to me again, you little shit, and you won’t live to regret it!” Sharman shouted, delivering a backhanded slap that caused Keira to scream and curl up in a ball, trying to protect herself from any further blows. “You hear me?”

 

Keira shuddered, remembering the way that Tom had said those words to her when she had called him. _“You keep safe, you hear me?”_ But he had been saying it because he was concerned about her, not because he was threatening her.

 

“You hear me?” Sharman shrieked, grabbing her by the hair.

 

Keira yelped but this time tried to wriggle away. It was painful but as she began to push feebly at her mother’s hand, she realised that she was too angry to stop.

 

“Just leave me alone!” she cried, clawing at Sharman’s fingers. Sharman cried out and released her, and Keira scrabbled to her knees, rubbing her head. “Why do you have to spoil everything like this? Why can’t you just...stop?”

 

“You little bitch!” Sharman seethed. “I’m bleeding!”

 

“And I’m not?” Keira cried, wiping blood from her cheek where the shattered glass had scratched her. “Just...just get out of here! Leave me alone!”

 

“Keira, bathroom, now,” Janet ordered, coming in through the door and taking hold of her daughter’s elbow. “Downstairs, Sharman.”

 

“Stop telling me what to do!” Sharman growled.

 

Keira did as she was told and escaped to the bathroom. Once the door was firmly locked behind her, she slide down against it and began to sob out her frustrations. She could hear her mother and _Seanmhair_ arguing again, but gradually, their voices faded out and she heard the click of the living room door downstairs. Quickly, she scrabbled to her feet and pulled herself over to the sink to look at herself in the mirror. The cut wasn’t too bad, although her hands were rather bloody, but she couldn’t tell if that was her blood or her mother’s. Once rinsed off, though, they looked better, and she quickly set about cleaning and patching up each cut before hurtling back to her room at top speed, locking the door firmly behind her.

 

Her thoughts landed on Tom, and she felt a longing for him. Yet, when she reached for her phone, she paused and decided not to call him. She couldn’t keep doing that. Instead, she looked around her room for something to write on. Her old school jotter was still sticking out of her schoolbag, and she quickly wrenched it out along with a pen and began to write, fuelled by adrenaline and frustration.

 

_Tom,_

_You want to know why I set fire to that bar? You want to know what reason I, Keira Knightly, the quiet one, the one who sits and reads a book whilst everyone else goes clubbing until midnight, would possibly have to set fire to a bar at random? Well, here it is._

_My mother’s a drunk. Alcoholic, I suppose you’d say, but that doesn’t matter right now. When she had me, she was sixteen, so was my dad. He said he’d stand by her and that’s what he did. They got married and moved in with my seanmhair and seanair whilst trying to find work, but it completely ruined my mum’s plans for whatever it was she wanted to do with her life. Take a guess, becoming a teenage mother wasn’t one of those things._

_After Seanair died, that’s when the drinking began. My dad tried hard to cope with it, he looked after me as best as he could, but with Seanmhair working and my mother constantly spending her evenings getting drunk and falling into gutters, he didn’t find it easy. She virtually refused to help look after me, and then when she got sacked from her job, the drinking got worse. She said she’d try and get another job, but in the end she was more concerned with where the next drink was coming from than anything else. They started rowing a lot and in the end, my dad walked out. I haven’t seen him since._

_I was two years old._

_At the age of five, the truly scary stuff started. She and Seanmhair argue a lot now and they used to back then. It always terrified me, but then the beatings started. They never stopped. Some days she might have a day when she’s sort of sober and she might have half a normal conversation with me, but it always ends with her violent mood swings and her going back to the bottle._

_Because she hates me._

_Seanmhair keeps trying to protect me, keeps trying to make it stop. She tells my mother to get help and my mother says she will, but she never keeps her promises, she never gets help. She just drinks and sleeps all day and I have to tiptoe around the house because I’m frightened of her waking up and hurting me again. Every single thing I do is an excuse for her to hit or kick or even throw something at me._

_I set fire to that bar because it’s the one where she goes a lot to get drunk, when she does go out, that is, and I suppose in a moment of madness I thought that if I set fire to the bar, if I burned it down, then she wouldn’t get drunk anymore. Stupid, I know, and reckless, but I just didn’t know what else to do._

_Please believe me._

She didn’t know why she put that last. After a brief hesitation, she crossed it out, although it was still legible through the lines, and folded the paper up. There was a knock at the door and she jumped, hiding the paper under her.

 

“Keira?”

 

It was _Seanmhair._ Reluctantly, Keira clambered off the bed and unlocked the door, and Janet pulled her into a tight embrace, murmuring softly “There, now, it’s ok, it’s alright, she’s sleeping it off now, you’re safe.”

 

Keira said nothing. For the first time that day she suddenly realised that it wasn’t _Seanmhair_ she wanted to have holding her, it was someone else, someone with caring blue eyes and a comforting voice and a touch she craved badly.

 

She wriggled free and sighed, glancing at her feet. “I’m fine, just...just don’t talk to me for a little while.”

 

Janet nodded, understandingly, although she looked hurt. “Ok. I’ll be in the kitchen if you want me.”

 

She turned and padded back downstairs. Keira closed the door, quietly, and picked up the note she had just written. After reading it over, she quickly folded it again and stuffed it into the bag she always took with her to the Community Centre before she could change her mind about it.

 

Only she wasn’t going to. Her mind was made up.

 

Next Thursday, she was going to slip that note in amongst Tom’s papers, or else give it to him some other way to read later. One way or another. She was not going to let fear win, not this time.


	8. "Bend and Break"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keira is a seventeen year old serving community service, but she would rather be anywhere than at home.
> 
> Tom is her twenty six year old counsellor, very professional, but there's something about his newest counselee that makes him want to be more. 
> 
> Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know. Sometimes there are things you can't always talk about. And sometimes other things just sort of...happen...

By the time Thursday rolled around, the cuts on her cheek and hands were far less noticeable.

 

She had avoided going shopping at all that Saturday, although she had done the usual thing of getting out of the house and sitting in the park with Keane music for company. Each time footsteps approached, she looked up, praying for once that it wasn’t Tom. He’d only ask about the scratches. Well, the ones on her hands she could pass off as paper cuts or playing with a friend’s cat or trying to get something out of a patch of briars, but how did she explain away the one on her cheek? There was no doing it. Thankfully, he never appeared.

 

 _I will not chicken out,_ she thought, _I will_ not _chicken out._

 

The problem, though, wasn’t getting up the courage to give it to him, but working out how to give it to him. After their session would probably be best, although inwardly she wished that there was some way he would go out of the room for a minute so that she could just slip the note in between his papers before she left.

 

Ironically enough, however, such an opportunity presented itself when, about five minutes before they were about to leave, Tom picked up his notebook, already bulging with other papers and the whole thing fell apart, dumping sheets of paper all over the floor.

 

“Hell,” Tom muttered, kneeling down to pick it all back up again. Seizing her chance, Keira dived down and began to gather up as many as possible, subtly slipping her note in-between two pages when he wasn’t looking at her. Tom offered her a grateful smile. “Thanks. My own fault, really, should have organised this lot properly weeks ago.”

 

Keira giggled. “This used to happen to me at school all the time.” She handed over the papers and Tom took them, scooping them up in one arm. Their fingers brushed and she felt a jolt like electricity sear through her veins. Wondering if he had felt it too, she looked away, blushing. “Is that all of them?”

 

“Yeah.” Tom stuffed everything back into the notebook. “Thanks, Keira.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Keira answered, softly, her stomach stirring with butterflies again. Today they had had one of the nicest talks she had had with anyone in a long time, exchanging favourites and sharing opinions. Tom had feigned disgust when she had admitted to liking Legally Blonde, and she had feigned similar antipathy when she had managed to get him to confess his love of Shakespeare, and they had both had a good laugh about that.

 

She wished their talks could last longer than just an hour, but now they wouldn’t, not ever again. She had added a bit to her note to him earlier that morning.

 

_So now you know the truth, Tom, and that’s been the whole point of our meetings, hasn’t it? To get me to tell you why I did it, and explain how I was feeling when I did. And now I’ve told you, not in the way you wanted, I know but I guess that means that you don’t need to counsel me anymore._

_I really did enjoy talking to you._

_Thanks for listening to me and my stupid ramblings._

“I’d better get back to litter patrol,” she stammered, getting to her feet. “Otherwise I’ll be accused of dawdling just to get out of it.”

 

“Better than clearing up dog mess, right?” Tom smiled.

 

She giggled. “Definitely. At least if you tread in litter, it doesn’t make a mess.” Then, she brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and held out her hand. “Bye.”

 

Tom frowned even as he took her outstretched hand in his own. “Bye.”

 

Keira quickly turned and hurried out of the room, trying very hard not to cry. In the end, however, she failed and quickly dashed into the nearest toilet block to hide her tears from him.

 

“Well, you did it,” she muttered to her own reflection, scrubbing at her eyes. “And now you’ll probably never see him again, but that’s probably for the best, because he’ll never think of you like you think of him.”

 

“What’s up with you?” Naomie asked later as they continued cleaning up around the local estate. “You look all gloomy.”

 

“I’m fine,” Keira insisted, sighing as she loosened her grip on her pick-up stick too soon and dropped the empty Coke can on the floor again. She tightened her grip the second time around, crushing the can around the middle and dropping it rather firmly into the bag. “Just fine, everything tip-top and normal.”

 

The rest of her teammates exchanged a look but didn’t press the matter. Keira said nothing else for the rest of the day, apart from thanking Ben when he came to collect their bags and congratulated her on having picked up a lot of litter, and she made her way home in silence, pulling up her hood against the pelting rain, not caring a bit if she caught a cold. She didn’t, though.

 

The house was quiet when she came in, her mother most likely asleep, and _Seanmhair_ came out of the kitchen to greet her, wiping her hands on a towel.

 

“How was it?” she asked, brightly.

 

Keira shrugged. “It was ok. Where’s Mum?”

 

“Her room,” _Seanmhair_ answered, frowning slightly. “What is it? You’re usually much brighter than this on a Thursday.”

 

“I’m fine,” Keira insisted. “Just tired.”

 

She ran up to her room before her grandmother could ask her anything else, locked the door firmly behind her and curled up on her bed, not crying but not feeling anything like happy either. After about half an hour, she heard a knock.

 

“Keira, dinner.”

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

“What is it, lovie? Has he said something to upset you?”

 

“No!” Keira raised her head. “No, just...I’m just tired and I don’t feel like eating, ok?”

 

There was a pause, and then she heard her grandmother murmur “Ok, well, let me know if you change your mind.”

 

Keira rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Something crackled beneath her pillow and she fished it out. It was that crumpled receipt bearing Tom’s number. With an aching heart, she scrunched it up and threw it in the bin, scolding herself for getting upset over something so silly.

 

Only, it wasn’t.

 

With Tom, she felt like she had made a connection, for the first time in her life, found someone who understood her and who made her feel like she mattered. She hadn’t expected to develop feelings for him but it had happened, regardless, and now she was feeling the sting of it.

 

She closed her eyes and eventually fell into a fitful sleep, from which she dragged herself the next morning feeling sluggish and still not hungry. She forced some toast down to stop her grandmother from worrying, however, and left the house as quickly as possible so that she wouldn’t get waylaid with questions about the day before. Now knowing that she wouldn’t be having her meetings with Tom again, doing community service felt like it had before she had met him, a tortuous exercise that just stopped her from being locked up for her attempted arson, something she didn’t want to do but had to. Meeting with Tom had always made her eager to get the first three days of it over and done with as quickly as possible every week in order to make time fly until she could see him again. Now the day seemed to drag...for the first three hours at any rate.

 

It was a warmer day today, clearing graffiti from the walls of the Community Centre itself, and she had used the toilet excuse as an opportunity to escape inside for a few minutes and splash some cold water on her face to cool off. Just as she was leaving the toilet block, however, she heard voices close by.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

“I’m looking for Keira Knightly. I’m her counsellor, Tom.”

 

“Benedict, I’m her probation worker. She should be outside with the others.”

 

Feeling her heart racing, Keira quickly turned and began to walk away, tucking her collar up properly...just as she heard two sets of feet rounding the corner behind her.

 

“Keira.” That was Ben. She stopped and turned, slowly, to face them both. “Someone to see you.”

 

She ducked her head. “Tom.”

 

“We need to talk,” Tom said, stepping up to her.

 

Keira looked up at him and just knew that he had already read her note, even before he held it up to show her.

 

“You can use my office,” Ben told him, gesturing to it.

 

“I’ve got work to do,” Keira began.

 

“It can wait,” Tom interrupted, and then glanced at Ben. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

 

Ben nodded. “You can have a quick break,” he said to Keira.

 

Feeling cornered, Keira obediently turned and walked into the office, immediately sitting in the nearest chair and pulling her knees up to her chin. The blinds were drawn and she was grateful for that, grateful for the feeling of privacy. Tom walked in behind her and shut the door, but remained where he was. For a moment, neither of them spoke. This was not how she had pictured this turning out, she had expected he would read the note and break off their meetings altogether, not confront her about it.

 

“Keira,” Tom began, and she felt that she was in for a lecture.

 

“Can’t you just drop it?” she whispered, fiercely, turning her head away. “Can’t you just forget it?”

 

“I can’t if it’s the truth, Keira, you know I can’t,” Tom stated, firmly, stepping up to her. She flinched, turning away from him. _“Is_ it true?”

 

She nodded and then, burying her head in her knees, she began to sob. A second later, she heard the sound of a chair being pulled up next to her and felt Tom pull her into a hug as she began to choke out everything she was feeling. “I hate thinking about it,” she gasped, her sobs thickening her voice. “That’s why I didn’t say anything before, whenever you asked me about it, that’s why I lied, why I always lie when people ask me about bruises or cuts or sprained wrists. I hate it. I hate remembering that that’s what my life is like, that’s why I don’t talk about it, and I couldn’t even tell you even though I find it easier talking to you about this stuff than anyone else. I hate remembering that sometimes I wake up terrified that she’s going to...going to...”

 

She couldn’t finish.

 

“She was the one who hit you last week?” Tom asked. Keira nodded. “Why protect her if she does that to you?”

 

“Because I’m scared!” Keira raised her head for the first time, her beautiful brown eyes streaming with tears. “I’m scared of making things worse! I’m scared of what she might do to me! Do you have any idea what that’s like, being scared every single day since you were five years old, to be terrified of even making a noise in your own house in case you get hurt for it?” She shook her head and looked away from him. “I don’t think you do.”

 

“No, you’re right,” Tom said, gently. “I don’t.”

 

Keira buried her face in her knees again. “I know what you’re going to say, that I should have told you, and I did want to, really, I seriously thought about doing that, but every time I just couldn’t somehow, I just...couldn’t.”

 

“Keira, you need to get out of there.” Tom’s voice was urgent. “Out of that house.”

 

“I can’t,” Keira whispered, rubbing her eyes, fiercely. “She and _Seanmhair_ are the only family I’ve got, and I don’t have any friends whose houses I can just crash at, even at a time like this. I mean, Naomie or Hayley might let me spend a night, maybe, but I doubt they’ll let me stay long enough to find somewhere else to go. I can’t just leave. I haven’t got anyone else to turn to.”

 

“You’ve got me.” Tom looked straight into her eyes. “I won’t abandon you, Keira, I promise.”

 

She blinked, wiping a few more tears off her face. “Why are you doing this, Tom?”

 

Tom sighed. “Because I care about you more than I should.” Before she could stop herself, Keira reached up and kissed him. Tom didn’t protest for a good ten seconds, even responded to her kiss before gently pulling away from her. “Keira...”

 

“Don’t stop,” Keira whispered, her eyes closed. “Please...”

 

After a second’s hesitation, she dared to kiss him again and once again felt him respond, return her kiss. Boldly, she pressed closer to him, slipped her arms around his neck and felt a tingle of joy when he wrapped his around her waist and pulled her against him. She had never kissed anyone before, or even been kissed like this before, but it felt like the most wonderful feeling in the world. Tom was clearly very experienced at this, but it didn’t make her feel inadequate, somehow, like a beginner, and when he eventually pulled away from her to allow them both to breathe, she had to bite back the urge to beg for more.

 

“What time do you finish here?” Tom breathed, leaning his forehead against hers.

 

“Um...” For a second, Keira couldn’t remember. “About five, usually.”

 

Tom nodded, gently. “I’ll wait for you.” Keira opened her eyes, curiously. “I’m not letting you go back to that place tonight.”

 

Her jaw dropped, slightly. “You mean...I can come back to yours?”

 

“Yes,” Tom replied, and then he kissed her forehead, cradling her gently against him. “I’m not supposed to get involved like this with any of my counselees, but I need to know that you’re safe. I couldn’t live with myself if I sent you back to your place knowing you were in danger.”

 

His words, they were so heroic, so romantic, like something straight from a novel and she wanted to melt at how kind he was being. Instead, though, she simply cuddled closer to him, wanting to spend the rest of her life in his arms. Being held by him was wonderful, just like she had imagined it, although the first time she hadn’t really appreciated it due to being so overwhelmed by tears that she hadn’t really noticed it was happening, but now she could and it just felt so warm, so peaceful and safe, like nothing could ever hurt her again.

 

Eventually, however, she sighed. “I have to get back soon. I’ll be for it otherwise.”

 

Tom nodded and gave her a little squeeze. “I’ll be just around the corner.”

 

“You’ll spend all day waiting for me in your car?” Keira asked.

 

He shrugged. “Might take a nap. I didn’t really get much sleep last night, thanks to your note.”

 

“Sorry,” Keira murmured, guiltily. “It’s just...it was easier to write it than to say it, and, well, it was just after she’d hit me again. I’d been shouting at her and there was all this adrenaline still in me, I don’t know what came over me, I was just so angry...”

 

“You’re still a teenager,” Tom reminded her. “Your hormones are adjusting.”

 

She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll be an adult in March.”

 

“I know that,” Tom murmured. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like an insult.”

 

Keira relaxed. “You don’t think of me as a child, then? I thought you might.”

 

Tom thought about it before answering. “No. You’ve never acted like a child around me, more like a frightened young woman, which is exactly what you are.”

 

“I’m not frightened when I’m with you,” Keira murmured.

 

Slowly, Tom uncurled himself from her and sat up straight, holding her at arm’s length. “Come on, you’d better get back.”

 

Keira nodded, slowly. “Ok.”

 

Tom hesitated, and then gently cupped her face, caressing her cheek gently with one hand. She blushed and glanced downwards before flickering her eyes back up to his.

 

“You’ll be alright?” Tom murmured. “Out there, I mean?”

 

She nodded. “To be perfectly honest, I feel safer here than I do at home. Maybe that’s why I did it, really, set fire to that bar, maybe I wanted to get caught because I wanted to be somewhere that wasn’t home.”

 

Tom’s expression saddened, slightly and he brought their faces closer together. “Keep safe. Come and find me when you’re finished.”

 

Keira darted quickly in to kiss him before he could pull away. “I will,” she whispered. “Thank you, Tom.”

 

“Go on, go,” Tom insisted, “before you get into even more trouble.”

 

In spite of herself, Keira giggled before obeying him, leaving the room with a look back and a soft “Bye,” that spoke more gratitude than her words of thanks. Once she was gone, Tom leaned back in his seat for a few minutes, thinking hard and then shook his head. It was no good. He really did care about her too much to stop any of this now. Against his better judgement, he had developed feelings for her.

 

“I’m in trouble,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead, although something told him inwardly that this wouldn’t matter anymore.

 

If any of Keira’s teammates noticed that she looked slightly more cheerful than she had yesterday, if only slightly, then they didn’t comment on it. Inwardly, though, she was a little bit worried. What if this didn’t work out? What if it only made things worse, fuelled her mother’s hatred towards her even more? Surely Tom would protect her from all that, but what if he couldn’t? What if something happened to both of them because of it? Worse, what if Tom got into trouble for entering into a relationship with a minor?

 

She pushed that thought out of mind and concentrated on scrubbing the graffiti off the wall in front of her. Of course he wouldn’t. They would be careful about it. And he would protect her. She trusted him to. He seemed to be the only person apart from her grandmother who truly cared about her.

 

Even so, by the time she was finished, a few doubts had collected inside her head. As she zipped up her hoodie and slung her bag over her shoulder, said goodbye to her teammates and Ben, and left the Community Centre, the fear of something worse being right around the corner plagued her. After all, it was a big step, finally telling someone the truth, and now she wasn’t going home at the end of her day of community service, she was going to someone else’s home, _his_ home.

 

All doubt left her, however, when she turned the corner and saw him waiting for her by the car. She quickly ran up and flung herself into his arms, allowing the caring warmth to envelope her once again. Without a word, he opened the door for her and she slid in, breathing in the feeling of escaping from something, of being allowed a taste of freedom just once. She leaned back in her seat as he climbed in beside her, inhaling that feeling.

 

“Did I tell you that I like your car?” she asked.

 

Tom smiled. “You did, but it’s always nice to hear it again.”

 

“Chris must be mad wanting you to trade it in for something else.” As Tom started the car, she kicked off her shoes and brought her knees up to her chin. “Are we going straight back to yours?”

 

“Straight back,” Tom promised, noticing her position. “You do that a lot, don’t you?”

 

She shrugged. “I feel safe.”

 

Tom stalled the engine and then reached for her hand, squeezing her fingers gently. “I swear you won’t have to be afraid when you’re with me, Keira. I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“I know,” Keira whispered, squeezing his hand back. “And I do feel safe with you, Tom, I do, I think this is just force of habit.”

 

“I can understand that,” Tom assured her, before releasing her hand and starting the car again. Keira watched him, wondering what she had done somewhere in her life to have deserved his patient attention and tender care.

 

It must have been something good.

 

Boldly, she leaned forwards and flipped on the radio. As luck would have it, the DJ was in the midst of announcing the next song to be played and they both exchanged a smile as it began.

 

_“When you, when you forget your name,_

_“When old faces all look the same,_

_“Meet me in the morning when you wake up,_

_“Meet me in the morning, then you wake up..._

_“If only I don’t bend and break,_

_“I’ll meet you on the other side, I’ll meet you in the light,_

_“If only I don’t suffocate,_

_“I’ll meet you in the morning when you wake...”_


	9. "Silenced By The Night"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keira is a seventeen year old serving community service, but she would rather be anywhere than at home.
> 
> Tom is her twenty six year old counsellor, very professional, but there's something about his newest counselee that makes him want to be more. 
> 
> Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know. Sometimes there are things you can't always talk about. And sometimes other things just sort of...happen...

The journey was silent, save for the radio DJ putting on song after song until they finally pulled up outside a spacious looking house. Keira felt a rush of something, like excitement mixed with nerves as she got out and took a look at it. She had never done anything like this before, never gone off with someone to their house, much less someone older than her. But she trusted Tom.

 

“This is your house?” she asked, simply to quell the feeling of butterflies withering inside her stomach as she tucked her hands into her pockets, suddenly feeling very small beside the house.

 

“Not much but it’s home,” Tom smiled.

 

Keira followed him inside and looked around, taking in the neatness of it all. It smelled different to her house, it smelled...not alcoholic, she realised, there was none of that in the air at all. It felt different too, it felt brighter, not as dark and stuffy as her own house. It was nice.

 

“It’s bigger than my place,” she admitted, shyly.

 

Tom gestured her towards the living room. “Do you want something to drink?”

 

“Diet Coke, if you have it,” Keira replied, stepping carefully into the room and perching quietly on the edge of the sofa. Tom offered her a smile and went into the kitchen. Keira glanced about the living room, thoughtfully. There were a few pictures on the mantelpiece, one of two people she assumed were his parents, because they did look a little like him, and one of him with two girls, and she knew that they had to be his sisters, partly because of the resemblance and partly because why else would he keep a photograph of himself with two women in the living room? That was hardly the place for a photograph of a ménage-a-trois.

 

Allowing herself a small giggle at that thought, she picked up a clothing magazine that had been delivered through the door that morning, probably, she guessed, with a load of junkmail and bills, at least that was how it was always delivered at her house.

 

“Your last name’s Hiddleston?” she said, reading off the magazine as Tom came back into the room.

 

He chuckled, softly. “Do you like it?”

 

“Yes,” Keira decided, “I do. Sounds very...English.”

 

“That’s me all over, then,” Tom replied, holding out a glass to her. With a small, grateful smile, Keira took it from him and took a large gulp.

 

“I needed that,” she murmured.

 

Tom sat down opposite her, perching on the table. “Right,” he said, gently, “there doesn’t seem to be any point talking over what you’ve already told me. Something tells me you’ve already told me everything there.”

 

Keira looked at her feet. “Aren’t you going to tell me that I’m stupid for not telling anyone who could have helped me?”

 

“Of course I’m not.” Tom reached out and touched her hand. “Because I don’t think you are. I can understand that you were scared of making things worse. People who get bullied in school always say the same thing.” Keira said nothing, although she was grateful that he wasn’t telling her off. “What’s worrying me is the fact that you’d have preferred to have been locked up than spend another day in that house. Your mother must be truly evil if she makes you feel like that.”

 

Keira ducked her head. “She never wanted children. She would have had an abortion, but my _seanair_ didn’t believe in them, he was always adamant that no child of his would ever have one, so she didn’t really have much choice in having me.”

 

“You don’t have to defend her,” Tom said, softly, reaching his free hand up to stroke her hair. Keira glanced up at him. “She has no excuse for treating you like that.”

 

She sighed. “Sorry, force of habit, I suppose. It’s just...she says I ruined her life, she’s always said that, it’s hard to see it any other way.”

 

“You’re not to blame here, Keira,” Tom insisted. “And it sounds to me like your grandmother cares about you a lot.”

 

“She does,” Keira replied. “She’s always the one to mop up my cuts and bruises. Except for the night I wrote that note, I had to do it then because she was trying to calm my mother down.”

 

Tom sighed. “You really can’t go back there, Keira. I couldn’t live with myself if I let you.”

 

Blushing, Keira glanced back at her feet. “You’d let me stay here for a while? Until-”

 

“You can stay here for as long as you like,” Tom interrupted. Keira looked up at him in surprise. “I mean what I said earlier. I’m not going to abandon you.”

 

Keira put her glass on the table and then flung her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “Thank you, Tom,” she whispered, closing her eyes as he wrapped her in a hug. “I always feel safe when I’m with you.” Tom sighed, deeply, stroking her hair. “Aren’t you worried you’ll get into trouble for this?”

 

“That’s only going to happen if we’re not careful,” Tom replied, calmly. “You’ve got four more sessions, four more weeks of community service, and then that’s it. You’re free.”

 

Keira sighed, happily. “But the whole age gap thing...I mean, it doesn’t bother me, but it might bother other people.”

 

“It’s only nine years,” Tom reminded her. “Could be worse, it’s not like I’m middle aged or anything.”

 

“I thought you were twenty six going on forty?” she couldn’t resist teasing.

 

Tom chuckled, lightly. “True.”

 

“When is your birthday?”

 

“February.”

 

“Oh, so it really is nine years, then. If you born in April it would only be eight.”

 

She felt him give her a little squeeze, a reassuring feeling. “Keira, we’re not doing anything wrong, although I’d rather we save the physical stuff for when you’re eighteen.”

 

“What?” Keira threw up her head indignantly. “But sixteen’s the legal age!”

 

“I know that,” Tom smiled, trying not to laugh at the adorable way she was pouting now, “but I’d feel a lot more comfortable if we waited until you’re an adult. Alright?”

 

He was brushing her hair out of her eyes and she couldn’t help but nod, even though her shoulder slumped. “Alright,” she agreed, “but we still get to kiss and everything.”

 

“Agreed,” Tom nodded. Keira smiled and then reached up to pull him down to her level and kissed him. “Cheeky,” Tom murmured with a smile.

 

She giggled. “I can’t help it, you’re so intoxicating.” Tom pulled her into a hug and she closed her eyes, feeling completely safe in his arms. “I’m going to need to get my stuff,” she murmured, eventually.

 

“We can do that tomorrow,” Tom murmured.

 

“I don’t know what I’m going to tell _Seanmhair,”_ Keira admitted. “I mean, I don’t think she’ll have any qualms about me not living at home anymore as long as I’m safe, but I don’t want to sound like I’m being ungrateful by just leaving her to deal with Mum, you know?”

 

Tom nodded, gently. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

 

Keira sighed and finally pulled away from him, awkwardly fiddling with her sleeve. “Um, where’s your bathroom?”

 

Tom showed her and she couldn’t help feeling that it was so much like him, clean, neat, orderly, and even though it had only been that morning when she had last showered, she couldn’t help feeling a tad out of place, grubby against the pristine white tiles, mildew-free shower curtain and gleaming fixtures. She blinked at herself in the mirror, wondering what he possibly saw there, this thin bruised little creature with dark hair and wide brown eyes, and once again not dressed in her most glamorous outfit by any means.

 

Some days she felt her mother was right, she _was_ just nothing, not worth anything, and yet somehow Tom couldn’t seem to see that.

 

When she emerged, she found that Tom had moved to the kitchen, she was led there by the scraping and clinking of pans and plates. He looked up at her with an apologetic smile. “Hope you like pasta, at the minute it’s all I’ve got.”

 

“Pasta’s fine,” Keira replied, her initial nerves fading again. Feeling a little bolder, she hopped up onto the kitchen counter and since Tom didn’t say anything, she assumed that was alright. “Can I watch?”

 

“If you like,” Tom replied with a smile.

 

“I like watching _Seanmhair_ cook,” she shrugged, cupping her face in one hand, elbow on one knee. “She’s trying to teach me but I’m not very good.”

 

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

 

“No, it is.” Keira was silent for a minute. “I’m not really much good at anything.”

 

“You’re good at art,” Tom pointed out.

 

Keira frowned. “How’d you know? You’ve never seen me paint.”

 

“No, but you told me you got an A in your exam,” Tom reminded her.

 

She blushed. “Did you remember that or just look through your notes?”

 

“A bit of both,” Tom admitted, and she giggled.

 

A sudden thought struck her. “There’s not an art shop near here, is there?”

 

“No,” Tom replied, “but I can drive you over to the nearest one if you want.”

 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-”

 

“Keira, you can’t live in this bubble forever.”

 

“Bubble?”

 

“Yes, this protective little world that’s kept you safe from your mother all these years. Inside you’ve built up a fear of doing anything that could trigger something off in her and that prevents you from doing the things you really want to do.” Tom fixed her with a look, pasta beginning to bubble inside the pan. “If you’ve got talent, you shouldn’t hide it and I’m not about to stop you from letting it show.”

 

Keira blushed and glanced at her feet. “Sorry, it’s just...I’m still getting used to this idea that anything I say or do won’t upset or annoy you. It’s going to take some time.”

 

Tom softened. “I know. Sorry.”

 

She giggled, suddenly. “If this is what it’s like arguing with you, then that was too easy.”

 

They both laughed and for a while Tom cooked in silence whilst Keira watched. Something told her that Tom secretly enjoyed showing off his culinary skills for her viewing pleasure, exhibiting them like one of those television chefs she sometimes watched with _Seanmhair._ Presently, she hopped down from the counter and hugged him from behind, snuggling into him. Tom jumped, almost dropping the spatula, and then relaxed.

 

“Thank you,” Keira murmured.

 

“For what?” Tom asked.

 

She shrugged. “For everything.”

 

Putting down the utensil, Tom turned and wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug that almost lulled her to sleep. “You’re welcome.” Keira felt him kiss the top of her head before he pulled away to check the sauce wasn’t boiling over. She quickly decided to make herself useful and set the table, only to find that the nearest kitchen drawer she opened only held tea towels.

 

Tom turned and smiled. “That drawer,” he said, gesturing to it.

 

She blushed and retrieved the cutlery she was seeking. “Right.”

 

Tom watched her fondly, wondering what kind of sick woman her mother had to be. Keira wasn’t a trouble maker, she was an ordinary girl, quiet but normal. He couldn’t fathom her mother not loving her.

 

“This is good,” Keira smiled when she tried the pasta. “Really good. You should do this instead of counselling.”

 

“Meaning I’m a rubbish counsellor?” Tom teased.

 

“No! But I think you’re better at cooking,” Keira insisted, blushing again. He was very good at doing that to her, she realised. “Do you like it?”

 

Tom shrugged. “I suppose I do, although it’s just one of those things everyone has to learn when they’re old enough. If I hadn’t learned to cook, I’d have had to live on Pot Noodles all the way through university, and I’ve heard that’s not good for you.”

 

Keira nodded, understanding. “Like all the stuff you learn in school, like Maths and stuff, you need it later on, even if you don’t want to learn about it.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Still, if you kept this up, you could open up your own restaurant. I’d dine there every night.”

 

Tom grinned. “Shall we call that Plan B, in case counselling falls through?”

 

Keira knew he was only teasing her but she took him seriously on it. “I don’t think it will. You’re a good counsellor. I mean, in sixteen years, I’ve felt more comfortable talking to you than anyone else, and I’ve never talked about my mum to anyone before.”

 

He looked up at her, his expression soft. “Well, it meant a lot that you felt you could tell me.”

 

They finished their meal in silence, although it was companionable rather than awkward. There were so many things, Keira realised, that she wanted to know about him, and yet it felt like they had all the time in the world to learn everything about one another. She helped wash up, in spite of Tom’s gentle protests that she didn’t have to, pointing out that at least she knew now where the towels were kept, and that soon escalated into a small water fight after Tom splashed her for teasing him about being so neat all the time. That part was especially fun because then they got to dry off afterwards, although she was a little disappointed when Tom insisted she take the bathroom first rather than them share together.

 

She decided to have a shower anyway and change into some pyjamas that Tom had lent her, which consisted of a plain grey soft long-sleeved T-shirt and matching drawstring bottoms. Probably the least masculine pair he had on offer, she reflected, although she wouldn’t have minded what he gave her to wear at that point, the thought of wearing Tom’s clothes period was enough, and even though they were clean, freshly washed, they smelled like him, like his washing powder.

 

It was like being held by him.

 

Tom smiled as she came back into the room, her own clothes folded in her arms. “Um, where can I..?”

 

“Pass them here, I can wash them for you in the morning,” Tom said, taking them. “Your hair looks nice down, by the way.”

 

Keira felt herself glowing with pride at the compliment. “Thank you.”

 

She sat on the sofa, watching something on the television that didn’t really interest her but she wasn’t really concentrating, too busy listening to the sound of Tom showering in the bathroom. The prospect that maybe one day they would share a shower made her tingle inside and she crossed her fingers for luck.

 

“When you’re eighteen,” she murmured to herself.

 

Tom joined her a while later, also dressed for bed and she immediately cuddled up to him, smiling to herself when he hugged her back. Eventually though, she felt her eyes beginning to close and reluctantly she wriggled out of his hold.

 

“Tired?” Tom asked.

 

“Mm,” she agreed, nodding, before clambering off the sofa, making for the hallway. Tom followed her and then to his surprise, she turned towards the door that she had assumed on passing was the spare bedroom.

 

“Where are you going?” Tom asked.

 

She frowned. “Sorry, is that not the spare room?”

 

He smiled at her. “You’re sleeping with me, Keira.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.” He laughed as Keira practically threw herself at him for a hug before excitedly pulling him into the other room. She bounded onto the bed in a very undignified manner but for once she knew that Tom wasn’t going to judge her for it. He shook his head. “What am I getting into with you, Keira?”

 

“I don’t know, Tom, what are you getting into with me?” Keira teased back, hesitating before peeling back the duvet and sliding in. “Which side do you sleep?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Tom replied, closing in the curtains and then climbing in beside her.

 

Keira lay on her side, facing him. “I’ve never shared a bed with anyone else before. This is nice.”

 

“Good,” Tom murmured, moving closer to her. “You know, I want you to be comfortable here, Keira.”

 

“I’m always comfortable around you,” Keira insisted, daring to kiss him before cuddling even closer. “Night, Tom.”

 

“Goodnight, Keira,” Tom murmured, feeling her fall asleep.

 

What was he getting into, he wondered. Yes, this was unorthodox on the one hand, allowing a counselee to move in with him, but on the other hand, he was doing the right thing, he was keeping her safe.

 

And at the end of the day, that was the most important thing.


	10. "Spiralling"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keira is a seventeen year old serving community service, but she would rather be anywhere than at home.
> 
> Tom is her twenty six year old counsellor, very professional, but there's something about his newest counselee that makes him want to be more. 
> 
> Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know. Sometimes there are things you can't always talk about. And sometimes other things just sort of...happen...

Tom woke up the next morning to find himself alone in bed. He blinked, sleepily, remembering who had curled up beside him last night, who should still be curled up beside him at that minute, and then his usual councillor analysing skills kicked in.

 

He sat up.

 

She had panicked. She had bottled out, made a break for it and he would go into the kitchen and find a note or even a text message telling him that she couldn’t do this, she was sorry but she was scared or feeling guilty or something along those lines...

 

And then the sound of something clattering to the kitchen floor reassured him that he was being foolish, still-half asleep and that she was just elsewhere in the house.

 

“Shit!” he heard her mutter.

 

With a smile, Tom managed to pull himself out of bed and pad into the kitchen in time to see her retrieving a fallen teaspoon, which she quickly proceeded to wash under the tap. The kettle was boiling and two cups stood by along with the milk from the fridge. There wasn’t much left, he noted, he was probably going to have to buy extra now that she would be living here.

 

Keira turned and smiled, shyly, at him, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Hi.”

 

“Hi,” Tom replied, softly, stepping up to her.

 

She blushed. “I was going to bring you a cup of tea in bed...unless you’d prefer coffee.”

 

“Actually, I always start the mornings with tea,” Tom smiled.

 

“Oh.” She relaxed, smiling shyly. “I got it right then.” She couldn’t help adding, slightly bitterly, under her breath as she turned, although Tom still heard her, “That’s a first.” Tom caught her hand and pulled her into a hug. Keira smiled, slightly, breathing in his familiar scent of warmth and comfort as she snuggled into his shoulder. “I still can’t believe I’m going to be staying here. I swear I’ll help out and everything, I’m not lazy when it comes to housework.”

 

Tom laughed, softly. “Keira, it doesn’t matter.”

 

“No, really, I want to,” she insisted.

 

“Well, we’ll work something out as we go,” Tom murmured, kissing the top of her head. Keira took that as a sign to hop up on tiptoe and kiss him properly, giggling as he looked slightly surprised that she had just done that. All through breakfast she was tingling, eager to just run into the house, snatch up everything she owned and then run straight back to him...forever.

 

She hummed Keane as she checked her phone, feeling rather guilty that _Seanmhair_ had texted her twice in the night and she hadn’t replied. She had sent her a text before leaving the community centre the day before, just saying that she was going to spend the night at a friend’s and not to worry about her, but her grandmother had sent her the usual worrying messages even so.

 

_Are you sure you’re alright?_

_Please let me know you’re not dead in a ditch._

 

She sighed before quickly sending a text back in the affirmative, apologising for having worried her, and made her way to Tom’s bathroom to have a quick shower. She did wonder about going into the bedroom wrapped in just a towel, a hint to Tom that they didn’t _have_ to wait until she was eighteen to get physical, but before she was even done showering, he knocked on the bathroom door to inform her that her clothes were clean. She shook her head, wondering if his gentleman ways might get on her nerves later in life, but quickly dressed herself and tied her hair back up to keep it out of her eyes.

 

 _“Seanmhair’s_ getting a bit worried, we should go soon,” she said.

 

“Alright,” Tom replied, with a nod. “Just let me get cleaned up and dressed, and we’ll go.”

 

For the first time, Keira suddenly felt nervous and she averted her eyes, playing with the hem of her T-shirt. “And then it’ll just be you and me? Forever?”

 

“Forever,” Tom confirmed, reaching for her hand. Keira looked up at him and smiled, all nerves dying. She could do this, she decided there and then, she could, it would be in, out and then gone, forever.

 

Or so she thought.

 

She didn’t have to redirect him, Tom remembered her route from the last time he had driven her home. As they pulled up outside the house, she hesitated, the feeling that her mother might be up already lingering in her mind.

 

“You know, I don’t know how long this is going to take, maybe you should go home and I’ll call you when I’m done.”

 

“Keira, I _can_ wait for you, it’s not a problem,” Tom insisted.

 

“No.” Keira took a deep breath and turned to face him. “I...I don’t want you to meet her, Tom. She might hurt you, even if she doesn’t get violent, she can say such cruel things, she might try and poison things between us, or worse, make out I’m lying or even try to get you done for...whatever it’s called, corruption of youth, I don’t know...” She sighed and shook her head. “I-it’s better if I just go in alone. Really, I’ll be fine,” she insisted when Tom looked somewhat uncomfortable at the thought of abandoning her. “I know how to handle her.”

 

Tom sighed. “Alright, but if anything happens, anything at all, I want you to phone me right away.” Keira nodded and then to her surprise, Tom leaned closer to her, one hand cupping the back of her head so that they were eye to eye. “Promise me.”

 

“I promise,” Keira whispered. Tom kissed her forehead, making her feel tingly inside again, before letting go of her. “I’ll be as quick as I can,” she added, fumbling for the door catch and then almost tumbling out of the car in her effort to be quick.

 

Inside she found _Seanmhair_ pacing back and forth in the living room.

 

“Keira, why didn’t you text me last night?” she scolded, immediately running over to hug her. “I spent half the night worrying about you, when I wasn’t holding your mother’s hair.”

 

Keira blushed, guiltily. “Sorry, _Seanmhair,_ it’s just...well...”

 

She looked away, suddenly feeling like she was being ungrateful in abandoning her grandmother.

 

Janet frowned. “What, love? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

 

The thought of Tom getting her “in trouble” almost made her giggle, since chance would have been a fine thing, and she shook her head. “No, _Seanmhair,_ I’m not. It’s...well, I kind of told Tom...”

 

She trailed off. Janet’s eyes widened. “You told him?”

 

“I had to,” Keira insisted. “I just can’t take this anymore, Seanmhair. He says I should get out of here, and he’s right. She doesn’t get violent with you, just me and I can’t, I just can’t live like this anymore...I...I was with him last night...”

 

She looked away, feeling ashamed of admitting it to her grandmother, even though she and Tom hadn’t actually done anything the night before. After a moment, Janet ventured “He let you stay the night?”

 

Keira nodded. “But we didn’t do anything, honest. He’s got a spare room.”

 

Well, what her grandmother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, after all.

 

Janet folded her arms, nodding thoughtfully. “Is he...happy for you to stay with him?” Keira nodded again and her grandmother relaxed. “Well, you’d better get your stuff together, then. I’ll give you a hand.”

 

Keira wanted to cry in relief. “Thanks, _Seanmhair,”_ she exclaimed, hugging her tightly.

 

“Oh, it’s alright, love, I’ve always wanted you to be able to get away from all this, but it always seemed impossible,” Janet answered. “Just...you make sure he’s good to you, now.”

 

“He is,” Keira whispered.

 

“So, you came crawling back, then?”

 

Both of them stiffened and as _Seanmhair_ let go of her, Keira felt cold inside.

 

“Well, look who’s up,” _Seanmhair_ said in a voice of false cheer. “Why don’t you come and have a cup of tea, darling, leave Keira to-”

 

“Where were you?” Sharman interrupted, narrowing her eyes at her daughter.

 

Rubbing one arm, awkwardly, Keira turned slowly to her. “I-I-I was out...with a friend...we were at her house...”

 

“Don’t lie to me, where were you?” Sharman scowled.

 

“She’s just told you, Sharman,” Janet replied, briskly, taking her arm. “Come on, maybe you should have a bath-”

 

Sharman shook her off and stalked towards her daughter. Keira felt like a butterfly being cornered by a large spider. She tried hard to fill her head with thoughts of Tom touching her and kissing her and telling her everything was going to be alright, to give her courage.

 

“You’ve been sleeping around, haven’t you?” Sharman hissed. “You’ve been spending the night in some stranger’s bed.”

 

Keira squirmed away. “I haven’t. I’m still a virgin.”

 

“Bollocks, you’ve been whoring yourself all night, I can tell,” Sharman snapped, now towering over her.

 

“Leave her alone, Sharman, of course she hasn’t,” _Seanmhair_ insisted. “Keira’s got more sense than that.”

 

Keira sensed an edge to her grandmother’s words, feeling that she had meant them with intent to wound her daughter. Either Sharman didn’t notice this, however, or she simply brushed it off.

 

“It’s true,” she said, backing into the chair. “Honestly. I just-”

 

She didn’t see it coming, the slap that knocked her off her and painfully onto her side.

 

“You little slut!” Sharman seethed, kicking her hard in the ribs, causing Keira to shriek. “You’ve been going with men, haven’t you? _Haven’t you?”_

 

“No!” Keira squeaked.

 

“Sharman, that’s enough!” _Seanmhair_ was suddenly there, pulling her off. As Keira sat up, she realised that she was bleeding again where her mother had caught her with her nails. “Leave her!”

 

“Why do you stick up for her?” Sharman roared. “She’s nothing but a worthless little whore who ruined my life! She should never have been born!”

 

Blinking back tears, ashamed of herself for crying at words she had heard before, the poison her mother spewed at her day after day, Keira scrabbled to her feet. “I’m not worthless, and I haven’t been sleeping around.” Her head was spinning, spiralling, like in the Keane song, and her ribs were twinging painfully but she still managed to stand up straight. “And it doesn’t matter if I have anymore, because you won’t have to see me again now, I’m leaving.”

 

Sharman managed to wriggle free of her mother’s grip. “Yeah, that’s right, off you go, back to whoever’s bed you just crawled out of! It’s the last time you’ll be welcome around here ever again!”

 

“When have I ever been welcome?” Keira knew she was shouting but she couldn’t help it, all of her pent-up rage was finally spilling out, even though she was also crying and it hurt to shout without taking a lot of deep breaths because of her ribs. “What kind of...of person...are you? You’re just mental!”

 

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” Sharman was on her, pounding into her like a woman deranged. “Don’t you dare!”

 

SLAP!

 

Silence fell in the room as Sharman reeled back, holding her cheek. Keira stared at _Seanmhair,_ who was breathing heavily, like an angry bull. She couldn’t believe it. Her grandmother had just slapped her mother.

 

“You hit me...” Sharman whispered in disbelief, staring at her.

 

“I hit you because you need sorting out,” _Seanmhair_ replied, firmly. “Keira, get out of here.”

 

“But my stuff...”

 

“I’ll get it to you, don’t worry, just go. Now.”

 

Keira didn’t hesitate, she ran for it before her mother could start throwing things. She was halfway through the park when she finally decided it was safe to stop and call Tom. He answered almost instantly, and she wondered if he had been sitting on the phone or something.

 

“Are you done?”

 

“No,” Keira gasped. “Tom, can you...can you come and pick me up, please? I’m at the park.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Just...please...”

 

“I’m coming.”

 

Keira hung up and sobbed for a few minutes before she was finally able to pull herself together again and make her way back to the park gates. A few second later, she spotted his car and ran towards him as he pulled up. Tom looked alarmed as he caught hold of her, cupping her face gently.

 

“What did she do?” he asked.

 

“She...she started saying all sorts of things,” Keira stammered, shaking her head. “I can’t go back there.”

 

“I’m an idiot for letting you,” Tom replied, steering her towards the car. “Are you alright? Is anything broken?”

 

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. My ribs hurt a bit but I think they’re only bruised.”

 

“Your ribs?”

 

“She kicked me.”

 

Tom’s eyes widened in shock. “Keira, this needs to be reported.”

 

“I know,” Keira whispered, knowing inwardly that he was right. “But can we just..?”

 

They drove back in silence, Keira bringing up her knees to her chin and curling into herself the second she got into the car, Tom shooting her concerned glances all the way home. Once there, the first thing he did was fish out a First Aid kit and see to the scratches on her cheek.

 

“I hope people don’t think you’ve done this,” Keira murmured, wincing slightly as the antiseptic stung.

 

Tom smiled, gently. “I wouldn’t.”

 

“No, _I_ know that, but you know how people like jumping to conclusions,” Keira pointed out.

 

Tom sighed as he tossed the ball of cotton wool away. “I shouldn’t have let you go in there on your own, what was I thinking?”

 

“It’s alright,” Keira insisted. “I’ve had worse than this. And _Seanmhair_ says she can get my stuff to me, somehow, so I won’t have to go through it ever again.”

 

“Keira, you shouldn’t have had to go through it the first time,” Tom reminded her, taking her hands. “It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long.”

 

She nodded and then shrugged. “Well...” She didn’t really have anything to say, so she let the sentence drift. After a few minutes, she ventured “Maybe I should have a lie down.”

 

“Hang on, I want to check your ribs first,” Tom began.

 

She gasped, teasingly. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Shall we do it here or in the bedroom?”

 

Tom caught hold of her hands as she undid her zip-up. “Nice try.” Then, to her surprise, as she pouted a little, he laughed.

 

“What?”

 

“You, you’re very adorable when you look frustrated,” Tom replied, and then he leaned forwards and kissed her. Keira was surprised, so far she had always been the one to initiate the kisses, and then she kissed him back, feeling that yes, she was hurting, but things were going to be alright again now, because she was with Tom.

 

Even if for now their relationship was going to remain largely chaste.

 

Mind you, she reflected later, that didn’t stop him from having a lie down with her on the sofa, arms wrapped around her like he never wanted to let go of her ever again.


	11. "Everybody's Changing"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keira is a seventeen year old serving community service, but she would rather be anywhere than at home.
> 
> Tom is her twenty six year old counsellor, very professional, but there's something about his newest counselee that makes him want to be more. 
> 
> Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know. Sometimes there are things you can't always talk about. And sometimes other things just sort of...happen...

Keira stretched herself as she turned over in bed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The ice Tom had put on her ribs had eased the pain in them considerably and she had slept perfectly fine beside him, despite his constant checking that she was alright, that she didn’t need to see a doctor and the insistence that she wake him in the night if she started to feel more pain.

 

In a way, it was nice to be fussed over for a change.

 

She rolled over and kissed his cheek, causing him to stir and smile sleepily at her. “Morning.”

 

“Morning,” Keira murmured back.

 

Tom sat up a little, his expression concerned. “How are you feeling now?”

 

Keira smiled. “I’m perfectly fine, Tom, really.”

 

“You’re sure? No more pain?”

 

“No more pain.” Keira glanced down between them. “And I don’t think I’ll be in pain like that again for a long time.” Tom pulled her into a tight hug and she tried to think of something to say to get her mind off the events of the previous day. “So...what have you got planned for today?”

 

“Nothing,” Tom shrugged, honestly. “It’s Sunday, one of the few days I actually get to relax.”

 

Keira smiled against his chest. “So...can it just be you and me?”

 

“Of course,” Tom replied, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

 

Keira closed her eyes, feeling completely at ease in his arms, for a moment almost completely forgetting that her life had been any other way before he came along...at least until her mobile beeped beside the bed and she reluctantly dragged herself out of Tom’s arms to check it.

 

_Seanmhair: Where are you, sweetie?_

 

Keira quickly texted back the address before leaning against Tom again. “Everything alright?” he murmured.

 

“Mm,” Keira nodded. _“Seanmhair_ wants to know where to come with my stuff.” She wriggled her shoulders. “Not that I really have much stuff, just my CD player and my laptop and some books.”

 

“So I don’t have to worry about making room for a sofa or anything, then?” Tom joked.

 

Keira laughed and shook her head. “No,” she murmured, glad that he had just distracted her from the fact that, compared to him, her life in possessions seemed rather pathetic when summed up. She smiled, snuggling closer to him. “I like this. Let’s just stay like this all day.”

 

Tom smiled. “Sorry, but you’re going to have to let me get up.”

 

Keira pouted, playfully, but did as she was told. After a moment, she decided that actually she didn’t want to waste another second of a day that they would be spending together, so she rolled out of bed, stretched and padded into the kitchen. The whole house smelled like him, she noted, or rather he probably smelled like it. It was a comforting smell, like home. Tom must have heard her move out of the bedroom, because he didn’t look surprised when he came into the kitchen a few minutes later and found her sitting on the kitchen table, looking tired but cute.

 

“So...” he said, walking up to her. “Pancakes?”

 

“That sounds wonderful,” Keira smiled. She swung her legs, watching Tom pull everything that was needed out of the various cupboards, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she admitted “I always loved pancake day at school, when I was little.”

 

Tom grinned at her teasingly. “You still _are_ little.”

 

Indignantly, Keira grabbed a handful of flour and before Tom could tell her not to, she had flung it at him. Tom just managed to get his eyes closed in time as the flour hit the side of his face and shoulder. He shook his head at her. “Not funny.”

 

“Neither is teasing me,” Keira insisted, although she was trying not to laugh.

 

“I thought you were almost grown up,” Tom said, wiping flour off his face. “As you keep reminding me.”

 

Keira pouted, playfully. “Almost, that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun once in a while, does it?”

 

The sudden sharp knock at the door caused them both to whip around in that direction. Tom raised his eyebrows. “Could you get that? I’m not exactly in a fit state to do so.”

 

Keira nodded and hopped down from the counter, but on her way to the living room, she paused and hurried back, kissing him once before hurrying back to the front door. Slightly bemused, Tom shook his head as he patted flour off his pyjama shirt and went back to mixing pancake batter.

 

 _“Seanmhair!”_ he heard Keira exclaim in delighted relief, and he smiled.

 

“Are you alright, sweetie?” _Seanmhair_ asked, hugging her tightly.

 

Keira nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. She didn’t hurt me badly.”

 

Seanmhair sighed, shaking her head. “It’s no good, Keira, you know, I’m going to have to get her proper help.”

 

“She’d never go,” Keira replied, surprised.

 

“She will, even if I have to drag her there by the ankles,” her grandmother replied, laying down the bag she was holding. “Come on, help me with the rest.”

 

“I can do that,” Tom cut in, and Keira turned in surprise, since she hadn’t even heard him come in behind her.

 

“Even better, some of these bags are heavy,” Janet smiled, winking at her granddaughter before leading the way to the car.

 

“Keep an eye on the pancakes, will you?” Tom murmured, touching her arm. Keira nodded, feeling a tingle of warmth run through her when he kissed her cheek before following her grandmother out to the car. Truth be told, he wanted to talk with the older woman anyway and this gave them a good opportunity to. Before he could initiate anything, though, Janet turned to him, a serious expression on her face.

 

“I might never know what any of us did to have God make you Keira’s counsellor, but I am more than glad that He did,” she said. “You’ll look after her, now, won’t you?”

 

“Of course,” Tom promised. “She needs it.”

 

“I know.” Janet shook her head. “If only my husband were still alive, maybe her mother wouldn’t have turned out the way she did, he was better at dealing with her than I am. Keira could have had a happier childhood.”

 

Tom took a deep breath. “This probably isn’t what you want to hear, but...what’s been happing to her, everything her mother does, it needs to be reported.”

 

“You think it’s that simple?” Janet sighed. “The police won’t do much since she’s practically an adult now, and they might try to get my daughter professional help, but she’s stubborn, she won’t stick to it. She might with me, but not with the way _they’d_ want to deal with things. The best thing for Keira now is if she stays as far away from her mother as possible. I realise it’s probably asking a lot of you, but-”

 

“No,” Tom interrupted, shaking his head. “I’d rather she was here, safe.”

 

Janet smiled. “You’re a good man, Tom, I saw that the first day I met you.”

 

Together they hefted the rest of Keira’s belongings back into the house, which was now smelling of fresh pancakes. Tom just prayed that she wouldn’t get too overexcited in flipping them, the last thing he needed right now was to repaint the kitchen ceiling. In a low voice, he murmured “Keira says the drinking started after your husband died, was it..?”

 

“Her way of dealing with that alongside the stress of being a teenage mother?” Janet finished, nodding, “yes. She seemed to forget that she wasn’t on her own, though, not like half these young women who end up in her position being kicked out by their families and rejected by their lovers. She still had me and Will to take some of the weight, and yet, I don’t know, it’s like she didn’t want us there, like she wanted an excuse to start drinking.” She shook her head with a sigh. “I’m afraid my daughter was always a little unstable as a teenager, but then the pregnancy and losing her father really tipped her over the edge.” Her eyes flickered over to the kitchen doorway and then back to Tom. “Did she ever tell you why she did it, set fire to that bar? Was it because-?”

 

“Because it’s the one her mother drinks at most,” Tom cut in, quietly. “She told me that she was hoping it might somehow make her stop...and that there was a part of her that wanted to get caught, hoping she’d get away from the abuse.”

 

Janet smiled, sadly. “Well, it sort of worked, didn’t it? She’s got you now.”

 

Tom nodded. “She’ll always have me, I swear.”

 

“Who wants pancakes?” Keira chirped, skipping into the room with plateful of them. “Are you staying for breakfast?” she asked _Seanmhair._

 

Her grandmother smiled. “Maybe another time. I’ve got a lot to sort out right now.” She wrapped Keira in another tight hug. “Call me if I’ve missed anything, but I think I brought it all.”

 

Keira nodded, silently.

 

“Don’t be a stranger here,” Tom said, kindly. “You’re welcome anytime.”

 

Janet grinned at him, mischievously, and Tom saw where her granddaughter got that side of her personality from. “She’s my only grandchild, you think I’d want to keep away?” She kissed Keira’s forehead. “You stay safe.” Then, to Tom’s surprise, she turned to him and hugged him. “And thank you, Tom.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Tom replied.

 

Janet smiled, and then made her way back to the car. Keira ran to the front doorway. _“Seanmhair_...do you think she’ll...really? This time?”

 

Janet shot her a sad smile. “I hope so, love. I hope so.”

 

Keira waved until she was out of sight and then, feeling Tom coming up to stand beside her, she sighed and shook her head. “My mother’ll never change.”

 

Tom kissed the top of her head, gently. “That doesn’t matter now. She doesn’t know where you are, you’re free of her. She can’t hurt you anymore.” Keira managed a tiny smile as she nodded and then turned to meet his warm embrace. “Now, I hope you’ve saved some of those pancakes for me,” Tom teased, and she giggled.

 

“Of course, Tom, I would never munch all your pancakes and leave you with nothing,” she teased back, and then blushed. “That sounded like some kind of innuendo, didn’t it?”

 

“A little bit,” Tom smiled.

 

They went back into the kitchen, where Keira noted that Tom only raised an eyebrow without comment at her practically drowning her pancakes in maple syrup.

 

 _“Seanmhair_ must _really_ like you,” she smiled. “She doesn’t hug just anybody.”

 

“Well, in that case, I’m honoured,” Tom smiled back, causing her to giggle. They ate in silence and Keira reflected on what had just happened, all that had just been said. She thought about Tom telling her that she was free now, free from her mother, free to do whatever she liked without fear of being hurt ever again.

 

And now that she could, she realised, there was one thing that she really, really wanted to do.

 

“Tom?”

 

“Yes?”

 

She took a deep breath. “Could we maybe go up into town, later? Or somewhere where there’s an art shop?”

 

Tom looked up at her with a smile. “I think we can definitely do that, Keira.”

 

Keira hesitated, trying to scoop a fallen sliver of pancake onto her fork. “Do you really think I could go to art college someday?”

 

Tom reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I think you could do anything you put your mind to.”

 

She smiled, feeling warm again inside at his touch, and eagerly anticipating their first trip to town together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Note: Will = Keira’s absent father in this, since Keira Knightly's real father is Will Knightly, also an actor.]


End file.
